


La Muerte Súbita

by Kimyona_Sensei



Category: AmazingPhil (Youtube), Danisnotonfire (Youtube), Jacksepticeye (Youtube), Markiplier (YouTube)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Horror, Horror video games turned real, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, Stressful, Suspense, Thriller, Youtube personalities, horror games, live action horror, replicas of horror games, shameless self insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2018-08-18 05:06:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8150114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimyona_Sensei/pseuds/Kimyona_Sensei
Summary: Dear Youtuber,I’d like to offer you a chance to donate millions to your selected charities, and an exclusive opportunity to film in a specialized environment. The recently finished Horror Emporium, La Muerte Subita, is holding a grand opening event, and we are extending a free invitation to be one of the first people to experience this unique horror game.Please,Join us.---Or the one where horror games come to life and traumatic experiences bring people together.





	1. The Email

Dear Youtuber,

        I’d like to offer you a chance to donate millions to your selected charities, and an exclusive opportunity to film in a specialized environment. The recently finished Horror Emporium, _La Muerte Subita_ , is holding a grand opening event, and we are extending a free invitation to be one of the first people to experience this unique game. All off the footage captured will be copyrighted to only you; and only streamed with explicit permission.

            Due to the extreme nature of the environment, there is a chance of injury. However, all issues will be addressed in detail upon arrival.

       Upon agreement, all transport to and from your selected hotel will be arranged by the Horror Emporium; with no cost to you. There will also be a meeting before the game, and after the completion of the game, where food and drinks will be provided. All food during the day(s) spent at the Emporium will be provided free of charge, as well as unlimited water.

The event starts on October, 3rd. If you choose to attend, please respond with your hotel location and any important information reguarding health issues or allergies to any material or foods.

We hope to work with you,

            CEO and founder, Hanayu E. Kimyona  
            Executive of affairs, Nicole Siah


	2. Welcome to Washington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Washington.

The car that had arrived at his hotel was an expensive Range Rover, painted black with darkened windows. Mark assumed the experience started here; as he climbed in the back seat and greeted the smaller man in the front seat.   
“Morning.” Mark says, settling down in his seat and buckling himself and his bag down to the seat.   
“Good morning, Markiplier.” The man replies, smiling as he pulls out from the quaint hotel’s front. Lakewood, Washington was freezing late Fall, and the early morning sky was slate grey with clouds. The smell was fresh and dewy, but the air was biting cold and the sun was dull in the sky. The road was dark with drying rain as the car drives smoothly from street to street.   
“You can call me Mark.”   
The man in the front seat smiles wider;   
“Mark it is, then.” The turn signal flips on as the car slows to a stop and hazel eyes meet Marks through the review mirror. “I’m Jean.”  
Mark nods, then returns his attention to the window beside him. They journey on for a moment, heading north toward Seattle, before cutting off to the right and traveling down an old road lined with factories.

 

La Muerte Subita was a massive, concrete building equal to the surrounding factories. There was a small group of people mulling outside the front, standing behind metal barriers in scarves and beanies, made fluffy with endless jackets and sweaters. Jean pulled up to the front of the building, pulling to a gentle stop and shutting down the car. Mark unbuckles and zips his jacket up his neck before snatching his bag and opening his door. He hadn’t packed heavy enough for this chill. Jean climbs out beside him, smiling as he closes Mark’s door;   
“I’m going to take you inside, and we’ll find Nicole. She’ll get you all set up. Are you hungry at all, should I find you some coffee? Breakfast?”  
Mark looks at him, Jean’s black hair dancing in the wind, skin too brown to be indigenous to weather this cold. He wonders what his connection is to the Horror Emporium.  
“I’m alright for now,” he mutters, “Thanks.”  
Jean only shrugs before shoving off the car and beckoning for Mark to follow him across the sidewalk and up to the front door. He pulls a lanyard from beneath his jacket and scans the card attached, unlocking the door with a robotic click and pushing it open for Mark. Inside is a warm sitting area with a reception desk and fireplace. The crackling of the fire is relaxing, and the faint smell of wood makes for a homey room. Jean waves toward the sitting area;   
“Go ahead and take a seat, I’ll go find Nicole.” 

 

Mark sits in the warm reception room and inspects his cameras. There are a few different types of cameras and microphones, a couple extra batteries and chargers. He hadn’t really known what to bring to the Emporium, but now he wishes he had brought less. His bag was large and angled and uncomfortable when filled, and he usually left most of his equipment at home when he travelled, opting for a smaller camera or simply using his phone to capture little clips. He packs his cameras away again, interrupted by the sound of clicking heals on the wooden floor. The sound of voices chatting approaches, and Mark spots Jean as he nods and heads off in a different direction. The woman walking towards him is tall, her tawny hair pulled up in a casual bun. She has a soft face, as she smiles at Mark. He stands up to greet her as she extends her hand to shake;   
“Hello, you must be Mr. Fishbach. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  
Mark nods, her smaller hand firm in his.   
“Pleasures mine, you must be Nicole.”   
“That’s me.” She confirms, turning to lead Mark back the way she came; “Come with me, I’ll take you back to the meeting room. We’ll go over all the details there. Can I get you any water? Coffee?”  
Mark shakes his head and snatches up his back to follow. 

 

The room at the end of the hallway is a meeting room, warm and clean, with a long wooden table and several leather chairs. Nicole had left Mark here a minute ago with a five minute time limit for the start of the meeting. He primps his hair in the decorative mirror before returning to his seat. He wishes he had asked for some of that coffee, now that he’s realizing the meeting may drag on longer than he had been thinking. The door opens slowly and a tall boy shuffles in, one hand gripping a large coffee cup, and the other holding his phone. Mark had sworn he had met this guy before, the curly brown hair and smattering of large freckles. He’s about to introduce himself when a cheery voice calls down the hallway and catches the brunette’s attention.   
“Dan, did you remember your medication?” someone asks from the opposite side of the door. Dan looks up at them, then realizes that Mark is in the room. They make awkward eye contact.   
“Hey man.” Mark offers, and Dan sort of waves. A head of black hair and a pair of blue eyes poke in the doorway.   
“Oh! Hello Mark!” Phil calls, stepping into the room and guiding himself and Dan down to sit together across from him. They begin to talk as Phil and Dan sip on their coffee, passing a few minutes in lighthearted banter. 

 

The trio is interrupted when the door opens again, revealing a shock of brown hair and another pair of blue eyes. The smaller man stops short as the door closes and breaks into a smile.   
“Dan! Phil! Mark!” he calls, stepping over to take a seat near Mark. Each of them offer a greeting as Jack sets his coffee down on the table, followed by a few danishes, and together they snack. It’s after a moment of friendly conversation when Dan serenely mutters;  
“Do you think we’ll get hurt at all?”   
Phil turns to him in horror as Jack slowly lowers his coffee from his lips. Mark slows in his chewing of Jack’s pastry as Dan continues;   
“I mean, come on. The email said that it was an extreme environment; I’m just wondering how extreme…”   
They all lapse into silence.   
“Gentlemen.”   
All four boys look up to the door where Nicole stands. She offers them a smile before addressing them all;   
“I’d like to introduce the CEO of La Muerta Subita, Hanayu Kimyona.” 

 

A smaller figure steps out from behind her, holding a clipboard and a cup of coffee. They’re a little short, smaller that Jack, and they take a seat at the head of the table, taking a moment to raise the seat all the way to the limit with a straight face. Meeting the boys head on, they brush a short, stray, peach colored hair from out of their brown eyes, and smile.   
“Good morning!” she calls out, a little chipper, but more on a serious note. They all nod back to her.   
“Welcome to the Horror Emporium; I’m glad you all accepted our invitation.” she straightens the papers on the desk, then motions to Nicole, who stands behind her. Nicole steps forward and passes out a set of papers to each of them as Hanayu continues talking;  
“Before you is a set of papers that you will need to sign, however, I’ll go over each of them and they’re purpose before you sign so that you know exactly what we’re doing and how it affects you.”   
Four papers and four pens later, the discussion begins. 

 

“The first paper is a copyright claim to all footage recorded here. Filling and signing this form secures that none of the video, audio or stills will circulate without your permission; and also gives the company, our company the limited right to show and edit footage on tomorrows date only.”   
Mark reads the sheet, then fills it out, listing each of his personal perimeters and how long the delay between live feed and consumer feed should be. It takes a moment, but the forms all return to Nicole, and she fits them neatly into her file. Another set of papers replaces the last as Nicole speaks gently to the group;   
“These forms are an agreement to be treated in this facility, if the need arises. All characters in the game are played by actors who specialize in different areas, however, the possibility of injury is still an issue. Twisted ankles, concussions, bruises and small cuts are known to occur during the game; and any minor injury can be treated here. There are trained, professional medical staff on site at all times.”  
Jack has already passed his signed form back as Mark turns his attention to the paper. He fills in his insurance information and signs as well. Dan and Phil talk with each other in hushed voices before Phil pipes up with a question;  
“There are a couple concerns with fitness, after looking at this; I’m not sure we should attempt something so dangerous…”  
“Mr., Lester, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I do have a solution.” Hanayu mentions, meeting Phil’s eyes and Dan’s frown.  
“We will conduct a fitness test tomorrow, nothing too hard, just a simple heart rate check, endurance check and overall checkup. That way we know which levels are too extreme for your bodies to handle. If you cannot complete any levels, we will completely refund your trip here and give you VIP tickets to watch the remaining contestants and still donate to your selected charities.”

 

Phil nods, then signs as Dan holds his tongue between his teeth, still frowning. Once signed, Nicole retrieves these forms as well. Another round of papers hit the table and Nicole addresses the room again, still soft and articulate;   
“These final forms ask for your consent in entering the harsh environment that is the game, and revoking your right to sue. Of course, our facility has been reviewed and approved by the state of Washington, which means the attraction is completely legal to operate and attend.”   
Once again, Jack signs first, although it’s a more thought out moment. Mark reads the paper, and signs himself, just as Dan and Phil hand in their paper. The next twenty minutes is spent answering questions and explaining the most harmful accidents in the Emporium’s trials. 

 

It’s near eleven when the meeting lets out, and all four of the YouTuber’s are ushered into the back of the building where a kitchen and breakroom is set up for the staff. Each of them are welcomed to the salad bar and sandwich display. Mark picks out a ham sandwich and one of the water bottles on the counter before settling down at one of the tables. It’s only a moment before Jack joins him, a sub in one hand and a cold bottle of lemonade in the other.   
“There’s a vending machine over there. Want something better to drink?” he offers, popping open the lid with a hiss. Mark shakes his head,  
“No thanks, man. I’m good.” He smiles.   
Jack just shrugs and tucks into his sandwich. Dan and Phil have settled a table away, and it seemed that they preferred to be alone. It didn’t matter to Mark, it was only lunch, and he didn’t know either of them well.   
“So what do you think about this whole thing?” Jack says, mouth full of sandwich. Mark frowns;   
“It seems a whole lot more complicated than I had originally been thinking.” He admits. Jack nods in agreement.  
“I think we may have bitten off more than we can chew.”   
It’s true, after all; any attraction that has a waiver and requires a team must be something serious. Mark isn’t sure he made the best decision coming here, even if it was a great way to fund his charity and film something new. His thoughts are interrupted by a laugh and a flippant “Try new things, right Phil!”  
Mark turns to see Dan filming on his phone, and the two laughing over their sandwich and fancy salad. At least they were making the best of the situation.


	3. The Time Has Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It begins...

The day of the event, Jack hadn’t slept so well. He had been awake until two in the morning perfecting his YouTube queue, and editing the last of his backup content on his laptop. It was dark in the room when his alarm went off, and he smashed the phone on the bedside table with all the force he could muster at 7.15. He managed to slide out of the bed and into the shower within twenty minutes, and out of the shower in three. At least he was productive once the smell of shitty hotel coffee hit his nostrils and he had dried off and dressed himself. Jeans and sneakers seemed appropriate for running, and a dark tee-shirt to hide the sweat, if there was any. Blow-drying his hair and pressing in a pair of earrings for the effect, Jack decides he’s as ready as he’s willing to be this morning, and leaves the crappy coffee in the pot. He gathers his bag, stuffing an extra couple shirts and his camera inside before trudging downstairs to nibble a bagel and some real coffee before the car comes to pick him up in fifteen. Mark slouching, half asleep and dead behind the eyes was not his first expectation upon entering the dining room of the hotel. He surveys the buffet before settling on a plain bagel and toasting it as he prepares his coffee. Once his bagel is buttered and he secures a small helping of cream cheese, he shuffles over and sits himself across from Mark. 

 

“Morning.” Jack says, taking a sip of his coffee. Mark blinks at him for a moment, then nods in greeting. He’ll take it.   
“I didn’t know we were staying in the same hotel.” Jack mutters, not sure if Mark is even listening. Mark isn’t, for a moment, but he nods again after a long moment.   
“Yeah, I figured we’d all gotten different hotels. Guess not.” Jack nods and starts munching on the warm bagel.   
“Did you eat yet?” he asks. Mark shakes his head.   
“I don’t think I want too. I don’t want to get sick later, I have no idea what to expect.”  
Jack can’t help but agree, and he’s a little glad when both he and Mark end up in the same car. He doesn’t want to go into this alone.

 

Dan and Phil are already in the waiting room when they arrive. There are fans gathering outside, behind metal partitions and a few Emporium personnel handing out coffee and lighting outdoor heaters around the front. It’s nice to see their fans treated so nicely, and Jack tries to take as many fan photos as he can before he goes inside. It hadn’t been many, but he was glad to be out of the morning cold and in the warm room. The fire was crackling and burning bright, and the smell of espresso was wafting throughout the room. Behind the front counter was a black haired man with striking hazel eyes, and he called out to Mark with a wave and an offering of fresh espresso. Mark moved forward to greet him, and accepted two cups of frothing courage and brought one back to Jack as he stood just inside the door.   
“Here, man.” Mark says solemnly, “I think we’ll need it.”   
“Thanks.” Jack takes the warm cup and just breathes it in. Savors it. There was a lot happening today, and it was starting soon. Jack didn’t think he would get a moment of peace for the rest of the day, so he was treasuring this small amount of time. At least he and Mark seemed to be getting along, it had been awhile since he had been one of the gang. A while since he had been at Marks side, an equal, almost a friend. He hopes, maybe at the end of this, they can be friends again. 

 

Nicole had come and gotten all four of them around 8.45, and she had lead them down a set of low lit halls. They arrived at a large medical room with a set of workout machines and a few computers. At the helm of the machinery sat a man, thin and smart in his black denim and button down shirt. He wore a lab coat and a set of stethoscope around his neck, completing the look of professional TV doctor.   
“Hello, Doctor. These are your patients for today,” Nicole announces, catching the man’s attention, “This is Daniel, Philip, Mark and Jack, they’ll be participating in the charity today. I leave them in your hands.”   
The man nods as Nicole takes her leave back the way they had come.   
“Welcome, gentlemen. My name is Darren, I’ll be assessing you today. We want to be completely sure you can handle the physical aspect of the game,” he pauses and looks all four of the boys over, “Don’t worry, every test is completely non-invasive.” 

 

With that, Darren instructed each to take off their shirt and sit on the stool in successive order, starting with Jack, who was displeased to release his nipples in the cool air of the room. The cold feeling of the stethoscope on his chest above his heart and lungs was unpleasant but short as the doctor made his notes and allowed him his shirt back. Jack waited as Mark stripped and sat, followed by Phil and Dan. Each of them having notes taken on separate clipboards. Next, Darren directed Jack to the treadmill in the corner of the room, close to the door, and hooked him up to a couple machines, one on his wrist and one over his mouth. Then, Jack was set to pace a light jog for a few minutes while the Doctor took more notes on his sheet. He ran and ran until he could feel his chest getting heavy with fatigue and his heart beating fast and hard. It seemed like too long before the treadmill stopped and he was allowed to rest. In order, Mark went next, followed by Dan and Phil until all four of them were drenched in sweat and tired already. After a moment of recovery, Darren went about taking their heart and breathing rates and recorded them on their respective sheets. 

 

Once finished, he directed each of them to climb on the stair machine; setting it to a level to fast for long periods of time. Jack stepped up two at a time to keep up, and even after that fell behind from sheer pain. It had only been a minute and a half before Jack had been pulled off and sat down gently on the doctor’s stool. Mark followed once again, and Dan and Phil. It’s a relief when it’s announced that the testing is over and each of them can sit. Jack relents his seat to Dan when he suddenly falls; legs buckling under him and eyes sliding shut for a moment. Phil catches him, and Darren quickly reaches over and helps him sit the large boy down on the chair and fan him back to attentiveness. The doctor shines his pen light into Dan’s eyes as Mark and Jack hover behind Phil, who holds him up from behind. It’s a minute before Dan holds himself upright and Phil can converse privately with the doctor. Jack catches “orthostatic hypertension”, but decides to keep an eye on the pale brunette swaying slightly on the stool. 

 

They are collected by Nicole and the same boy from earlier, this time without the amazing espresso. He greets Mark again before going to join Darren at the back of the room. Jack watches as they step closer, shoulders brushing, smiles bright as they talk in hushed voices. He nearly gets left behind, but Mark gently grasps his arm and leads him back out to the hallway where the rest of the group wait. Jack offers a quiet thank you as Mark lets him go. Mark assures him it’s no problem. Jack wants to believe it isn’t. Jack wants to believe they’re becoming friends. He lets the incident slide and turns back to the group. Nicole leads them to a cold, concrete room in the back of the building, walls covered in small holes, the floor a dark carpet. They’ll wait here for the game to start. Jack decides it’ll be a good idea to hit the bathroom before they start the game, even if there is a center level for a much need intermission between games. Dan and Phil stand close and whisper in the corner as Mark tucks his possessions into his bag. He hopes he’ll make it through the entire game, and not opt out at the center. He wishes he hadn’t drank so much coffee. 

 

Once Jack had returned, the rest of the boys cycled through the bathroom and returned to wait out the preparation. They can faintly hear the fans screaming through the walls and it hypes them up a little as they remember the purpose of being here. The tension in the room thickens with every minute they wait, and it’s a sight for sore eyes when Hanayu walks in, strange contraptions in hand.   
“Hello again, boys” she greets, stepping in the room. She looks more professional today, short peach hair neat on her head, quiffing up stylishly. A white button-down dress shirt tucked into dark, denim, high-waisted jeans and a pair of brogues so shiny Jack can’t take his eyes off them for a moment. She walks over to them and hands them each one of the belt-like things.   
“These are your monitors. They will communicate back to my crew as you move through the game. If one of you reaches critical levels of heart-rate, stress or anxiety, we will stop all personnel from contact with you until you recover, or extract you immediately.” She pauses to hold Jack’s belt, gripping the metal bit in the center.   
“This goes over your heart, under your shirt. Press it hard into the skin, until you feel a bit of tingling pain. That way we have a clear reading.”   
Hanayu motions for Jack to pull up his shirt, and he does. She presses the metal into his chest, over his heart, and it does hurt a little before it sticks hard onto his skin. She then pulls one side of the cloth belt over his shoulder and the other across his stomach and pulls them together over the center of his back, securing them tightly. Once done, she lets him pull his shirt down; covering the device. It’s completely hidden under his shirt. 

 

“Neat.” Jack breathes. Hanayu nods decisively; “Alright, get them on! I’ll be back in a second, I’ve got one last thing to do!” she calls as she rushes out of the room. Mark pulls up his shirt and attempts to stick the thing to his chest, almost dropping it. He drops a fuck and fumbles for it before Jack snatches it off the ground.   
“Want a little help?” Jack offers, holding out the device. Mark meets his eyes for a moment, then nods.  
“Yeah, please?”   
Jack steps in closer and sets the cold metal over Mark’s heart, then looks back up to meet his eyes.   
“Ready?” Jack asks, and Mark chuckles breathily and nods. Jack presses the metal down hard and feels it adhere to the skin as Mark flinches slightly. Guilty, Jack hurries to tie the line and step away. Once Mark’s shirt is back down the taller man laughs a little and sings;  
“Septiplier away!”   
It’s quiet, but Jack hears it. 

 

Within five minutes Hanayu is back with Nicole in tow; and they each take one person out the door with them. Dan is led away, face tense in fear as Nicole takes him down a different hallway to the one they came in. Mark is led away with a smile as Hanayu takes him away through yet another hall. Nicole returns for Phil, and Jack is left alone. He’s a little colder, now that none of his companions are with him, and he wishes they had been able to say goodbye. Hanayu jogs into the room and smiles at him.   
“Let’s go, Jack.” She chitters, excited. Jack lets her lead him out of the room and down yet another hallway. They go down a flight of stairs, and Hanayu opens a glass door for him. He steps inside a glass box, lined with copper colored metal.   
“Alright, hold on.” She says, then closes the door and hooks it down, locking it. It isn’t until he watches her run back up the stairs that his stomach drops and he suddenly regrets this entire thing.


	4. The Indoor Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How can trees live inside an old factory? Science.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every infinity symbol represents a change in perspective; each chapter only deals with two people, so it may switch back and forth.

Dan wakes up on the ground. His eyes are heavy and blurry, his limbs feel sluggish. What had happened? He remembers being led up a flight of stairs to a glass room, but he doesn’t remember anything after that. The distinct smell of damp soil and green jerks him back to reality and he fights for vision with a set of aggressive blinks. His eyes start to clear and he can finally make out his surroundings and…  
Fuck.   
A forest was not where Fan was expecting to be. Forests weren’t in buildings; forests were outside. Far away from him. Well, they should be.   
Fuck. 

 

Dan feels his stomach tighten in fear as he surveys the sturdy trees and green grass around him. There are stars over his head and a chain-link fence to his back. Oh god, he hates trees. He hates forests. He hates the dark. The term “existential crisis” had nothing on the panic attack building in his chest. He attempts to breathe; to inhale, focusing on the exhale. It isn’t relaxing; it’s a long ragged breath that hitches on a sob. He presses his dirty hands into his eyes and holds back the hyperventilation. He’s one the verge of tears, whimpering to himself as he attempts to gain control. He wishes Phil was here. Phil always knows what to do…  
The sound of rustling leaves startles Dan into action, he flinches bodily as he frantically scans the surrounding area for any signs of life. To his left, he hears the crunch of a footstep and the sheer adrenaline has him scrambling to his feet and attempting to run. He feels his blood in his feet and stumbles, catching the fence and keeping himself from falling face first into the dirt.   
Fuck.

 

It takes him too long to pick himself up and run. Away from the trees, away from whoever was stupid enough to hang around a forest at all, much less at night. He decides to rest against an old, rusting truck. He tries the door, but it’s locked. He isn’t stupid enough to break the window, so he leans against the side and tries to catch his breath. A slight breeze ruffles through his curls and Dan feels a bit less afraid. The sound of fluttering catches his attention and he steps around to the front of the vehicle, stomach dropping at the sight of a small paper square fluttering against the bumper. He reaches forward and pulls it from the cold metal, inspecting it. It’s a drawing of a large man with arms a little too long and a blank face; its page two of eight. Dan can feel the tears streaming down his face now, and he doesn’t bother to wipe them as he stumbles toward the fence and presses his back into it. Strafe, strafe. Back to the wall, Dan. He sidles against the wall for a few feet before the sound of deep drums reverberate around him, as if every blade of grass were a speaker set on loud. The tears come faster now, and he grips his one page tightly.   
Fuck. 

 

Dan finds another page in a large concrete tunnel. The slendy tube couldn’t be left behind faster as the drums start to speed up. The fence is his friend and he returns to it, his back covered and his feet moving quickly but clumsily as he tries to run sideways. He finds the third page in the bathroom-like structure. It takes him too long to work up the courage to enter, and not enough time to get out. He runs like a bat out of hell and presses himself against the fence once more. The drums are too loud, just the sound is enough to bring Dan to the verge of wetting himself, but the sound of footsteps beside him makes him run. Full pelt, Dan dashes forward; away from the noise, away from the bathroom, away from the trees. He runs until he’s breathing so hard it hurts. He runs until the sound of blood in his ears drowns out the sound of drums. He runs until he reaches the giant tree in the center of the forest, and he leans against it in pain. He can barely make out the paper against the bark, but he reaches for it nonetheless. Grasps it too hard in his fist; the fourth page…

 

It’s too overwhelming when the drums speed up, get louder. The atmosphere is too heavy. Dan feels his legs wobbling under the stress; but he’s okay. He’ll be okay. He’s breathing, he’s blinking; he’s living. He focuses on recovering enough to run again, to find the other pages. Almost ready to move, Dan stumbles forward, only to be caught in a tight grip. His body goes ridged, heart drops, spine numbs.   
Fuck.  
Dan turns around, hoping for an employee. Hoping for Phil.   
A blank, white face stares back at him, fingers too long on his shoulder, breath puffing strangely. Dan screams; loud, piercing, terrified. He screams and he tries to wrench his shoulder out of the large hand. It doesn’t work, instead another large hand grips him hard on the opposite shoulder and he’s pressed back hard against the tree. Slender Man presses close, face revealing a mouth too wide, a mouth filled with sharp teeth and blood. He breathes out against Dan’s face, and it smells. Sweet, cloying…  
Dan’s consciousness fades and his body slides down the tree trunk; tears leaking out of closed brown eyes. 

 

∞

 

Phil knows the game as soon as he wakes up. Well, as soon as he adjusts his contact lenses and focuses on his surroundings. Shakily, he carves an x into the ground by his feet before jogging off into the trees. He has a few minutes to wander before he hears the drumming start up. It’s loud, surrounding him, and Phil wonders if someone else is here with him. After all, the scary sounds only started when a page is found…   
He wants it to be Dan.   
He hopes it isn’t.   
The sound of his large feet stumbling through the grass and trees is loud enough to distract him from the sound of drums as he sort of wanders through the level. He can see a few large rocks ahead and he runs off toward them; both glad and a little terrified at the page he found lying innocently against one. Setting off again, Phil directs himself back into the trees. Fast walking, he starts to hum to himself. Maybe this won’t be so hard.

 

His scribbled x is at his feet as he faces the fence. The drums have gotten louder and he still has only one page. Perhaps his orienteering skills aren’t what he thought they were… Phil decides to set off in the opposite direction, wandering again; looking for anything remotely page-like. It takes him a few minutes of walking before he stumbles upon a rusted out car with a page tucked into a crack. Another few and he’s found the elephant butt, and snatched the page from there as well. He feels confident in his skill, holding his three pages gently in his hand. Slender? More like a pleasant forest night-walk. He stops short again. His x is at his feet. Frowning, he sets off in what he thinks is a new direction, ignoring the sound of drums all around him. 

 

A shock of pure fear stops Phil in his tracks when he hears the drums speed up, then fade slightly. The sound of screaming, raw and terrified, spurs him into action. He knows that scream. He’s running, clumsy but as fast as he can manage, toward the sound. Sprinting past trees as his heart pounds in his chest.   
Please be okay…  
He tears past countless trees, tripping on roots but pushing himself to his feet every time. His jeans are grass stained, his tee-shirt is riding up his stomach as he runs, but he doesn’t care. All three pages are now gripped tightly in his hand.   
Please be alright…  
He stumbles into a clearing where a giant tree stands tall, a little white page fluttering innocently on its trunk. Phil barely has time to care, but he snatches it anyway and circles the tree for any clue on the screaming. Halfway around the large trunk, he sees a pair of dark sneakers he knows very well. One he sees in his home every day.   
“Dan!” he cries, rushing to his companion’s side and pressing his cold, dirty hands to the younger boys face. Dan is laying at the foot of the tree, limbs spread out as if he’d fallen there against the tree. He was breathing, but unconscious. In his left hand was a wad of paper still tightly held between large fingers. Phil breathes a sigh of relief, hands still resting against the sides of Dan’s face. Pretty brown eyes flutter as Dan startles awake with a gasp. 

 

“Phil!” Dan cries, tears running down his cheeks as soon as he realizes who sits with him. Strong arms encircle Phil’s shoulders as he is pulled into a hug. He returns it with a smile, gently running his hands through Dan’s hand in comfort. They breathe for a moment, simply recovering in each other’s arms. It’s a minute before they break apart, Phil murmuring sweet words into Dan’s hair as he collects himself and wipes his eyes.   
“Did you find any pages?” Dan asks suddenly, straightening against the trunk of the tree. Phil nods and hands over his four pages as Dan straightens his. All eight pages lay mangled before them as Dan lays them in a line. It’s a breath of relief; the game is completed. Abruptly, the drums cut out and both men are left in complete silence. Dan grips Phil’s leg, terrified, and Phil places his hand over the larger. A large man appears from behind a tree, too long and too tall; his face fully white… with a creak the ground beneath them trembles, then opens; dropping both boys into a heap below. Dan grips Phil around the middle, face buried in his stomach as the younger whimpers during the fall. They hit a pile of soft material, and Phil watches as the trapdoor above them lifts to a close. Drenched in darkness, Phil reaches for Dan. A light from their left brightens suddenly and the glow of a set of computers catches his attention. His vision adjusts and he sees a wall full of drawings; a fan on a desk; a single desk chair in front of a set of monitors. Dan shifts in his lap and Phil grasps his arm.   
“Phil?”  
“It’s Five Nights at Freddie’s”


	5. The Death of a Comrade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uhh... I have no excuse.

Mark awakens on a hard stone floor, his tailbone hurts and his head is pounding. Behind him is a small glass room. In front of him is a large metal gate with a chunk bent in such a way that a person would be able to climb through it. He doesn't want to go into the dark space beyond, but he has no other choice. He approaches and gets down on all fours, making sure the little space is safe before pushing his body through it. On the opposite side is a long hall made of dark, wet brick. It's oppressive and damp, and all along the crease of the ceiling are pipes that spit steam and drip water. Mark feels his stomach drop a little as he starts off toward the light a little ways down the right-hand side of the tunnel. It's an industrial style light, with cords running back toward where he had come from, and its brightness blinds him a little. A little further down the hall way has a small bit of paper pressed firmly against one wall. Mark investigates immediately; picking up the little, ripped piece of paper and reading what was written.   
"Hey man, I think I left the keys down here last time we worked on the pipes." it reads, "See if you can find them."  
Mark tucks the slip of paper into his jeans pocket and continues down the hall. Everything about this seems familiar, and deep down; Mark doesn't want to admit he already knows where he is. He already knows what this is. 

 

A few minutes of carefully placed steps between hard brick floor and endless puddles, Mark stumbles upon a small hole in the side of the wall. His heart skips as he kneels down to inspect it. It's big enough for him to slip into, a small tunnel between halls. Mark decides not to follow it. He doesn't want to run into... anything. Making sure to be as quiet as he can, Mark continues down the halls in search for keys. He finds a glow stick, laying innocently on the floor, and he picks it up. The glow helps a little, letting him see the puddles on the floor in more definition. It serves to make the darkness in front of him seem larger, though. The weak green light never pierces far ahead of him, making his stomach tense and his grip on the plastic harder. He'll never see it coming in dark like this.   
He doesn't see it coming.   
The sound of scuffling and snorting alerts Mark to the presence of something other than himself as he presses into the wall; stops breathing. Strange sounding footsteps, pacing. Mark backs away, slowly. Quietly.   
His shoe sinks into a puddle with a dull splash.   
The sound of shuffling down the hall stops.   
Mark doesn't move, rooted to the spot. Terrified.   
The footsteps move closer, slow and deliberate.   
Mark has tears in his eyes.  
The gangly shape of a body starts to form in the light of one of the caged bulbs a few feet from where mark stands.   
Mark holds back a sob of fear.   
It isn't until the monster turns slightly, attention broken, that Mark tosses his light stick as far as he can; toward the monster, away from him. 

 

The monster snarls and tears after the noise, too fast and strong.   
Mark runs the other way as fast as he can, heading for the tunnel, trying to hide. He can hear the monster following him, he can hear it gaining on him. He throws himself into the tunnel, felling the skin of his arm scrape open as he makes contact with the ragged concrete of the open tunnel. He doesn't wait to address his injury, he doesn't wait to see if the monster still chases him; he only crawls through the tunnel. Hands and knees cutting open on bits of rock and jagged edges. He sits in the center of the tunnel, seeing light from either side; and he cries. 

 

Mark has been in the tunnel for too long. The monster outside the end he had come still shuffles in search of him; having heard his heavy breathing and sobs. His heart is in his throat, anxiety biting at his head as it aches. His hands and knees hurt, but the bleeding has stopped. His elbow is still sticky; but he has no time or will to inspect the wound. He will sit here until the monster leaves. He will wait it out and get away from this place.  
Mark falls asleep in the tunnel, exhausted. 

 

Mark jerks himself awake when he hears the sound of footsteps. Loud and fast as they seemingly jog toward his position in the tunnel. The monster is still outside the entrance, but it's clearly focused on the sound of someone approaching. Someone is coming, and they're headed right toward the monster. Mark starts to pick at the wall of the tunnel, trying to get a chunk of something; anything, that he could throw to distract the monster from the person headed this way. Mark doesn't want to watch anyone die. 

 

The footsteps come closer, and Mark still doesn't have the chunk of wall he's been kicking from the wall.   
The monster shuffles around with interest, but Mark's fingernails are too blunt to rip the rock from the floor.   
The sound of breathing filters down the little tunnel, and finally, a lump of concrete comes loose in Marks hand. He shuffles as fast as he can for the exit, toward the monster. Toward the unknowing player.   
Mark counts down; preparing to toss the rock.   
Five; the monster still shuffles.   
Four; the footsteps slow.  
Three; an eerie silence, a calm before a storm.   
Two; a tentative step, heavy breathing.   
One; the monster leaps, and Mark rears his arm back and throws his stone hard. It hits the wall, clatters to the floor and bounces a few times, distracting the monster enough for Mark to roll out of his hiding place and attempt to grab-- Jack stands surprised as Mark grabs the smaller man and pulls him down to the ground with him. 

 

"Get in the tunnel!" Mark whispers harshly, shoving the Irishman in ahead of him. Jack shuffles into the wall quickly, Mark on his heals as the monster reals back with a shriek and runs for their hiding place. Terrified, Mark shuffles up onto Jack's body, covering him as three fingered hands reach for them from the mouth of the tunnel. A litany of curses flow from Jacks mouth as he continues to shuffle as fast as he can for the opposite side of the tunnel. Once through, both boys shuffle out onto the damp floor with heaving breaths.   
"What the fuck was that!?" Jack cries, loud and echoing through the small hall they had come into. Mark leaps onto him and wraps a hand around Jacks mouth.   
"Shut up!" Mark hisses; looking around them. They seem to be safe, for the moment. 

 

∞

 

Jack lays underneath Mark as the man holds his mouth against the palm of his hand. He wants to lick him, but he can smell blood and decides against it. Rolling to the side, away from Mark, Jack breathes in and spits onto the floor.   
"You're bleeding," He says, agitated and afraid; "what did you do?"   
Mark looks at him, then holds his hands out to look at them. They were caked with dried blood, and Jack notices him flinch. Gently, Jack takes them in his smaller hands and looks at the cuts on his palms and fingers. They had stopped bleeding, leaving little scabbed scrapes in their place. It looked okay, in this light. Nothing to signify they had started to infect. Jack lets the warm hands go and looks up into Mark's tense face.   
"So where are we?" Jack asks, and Mark slaps his hands over his mouth again.   
"Shut up!" Mark whispers, "This is Vanish; the monsters find you with sound. So stop being Jack for five minutes and let’s get the fuck out of here without making a fuck-ton of noise."

 

Jack is offended, and he pushes Mark's hand off his mouth with a frown. He stands and starts off toward the left side of the hall. Mark shuffles to his feet behind him, but Jack doesn't even turn around. It's a stinging sensation in his throat; the insult still sitting heated in his chest. They walk in silence until they come to an open room filled with water tanks and steam. Inside is a set of keys; Jack picks them up off the floor with a huff of effort and pockets them. Mark's hand on his arm surprises him and he looks up at the taller man with a question in his eyes. With his opposite hand, Mark points to a different exit through the rest of the noisy boilers. Jack nods and shrugs off his hand; still upset, and shuffles toward the arch of stone, not looking back. 

 

The monster had snuck up on them in an instant, and all it took was a muffled sneeze to bring it running. After sneaking through the halls after the boiler room, Mark and Jack had been wiping their noses and eyes free of the dust settling in the back of the tunnels. One sneeze from Mark's big nose had attracted trouble; and standing still holding their breath wasn't warding it away. Jack reaches for his pocket slowly as the large, humanoid monster snuffles against the wall. The keys clink slightly in his grip as he extracts them and slips them into Mark's hand as quietly as he can. Mark looks at him, confused, and Jack just smiles sadly.   
"Sorry." he mouths slowly, "I guess I can't be anything but Jack."  
Without waiting for a response, Jack runs back the way they had come, as fast and as loud as he could.

 

∞

 

Mark watches in horror as Jack takes off running back the way they had come. He barely makes it a few feet away before the monster is on him. Mark feels his throat restrict as the monster's large hands grip either side of Jacks head, fuzzy brown hair bouncing lively as his head is torn violently to the side. Jack's body falls to the ground in a heap, a bodily thud ringing around Mark as it echo's off the walls. The Monster grabs Jack by the ankle and starts to drag him away.   
No. No no no.   
"Sean!" Mark chokes out, devastated. Had he done nothing while his friend sacrificed himself? Had he just watched him die?

 

Mark follows the monster at a distance, stopping to hide every time it paused or look around. He tracks his turns in order to return to where he had been, and memorizes every hole and tunnel on the way. When they stop, it's at a dead end. Another little glass room sits at the end of the hall and Jack is dumped roughly on the ground inside it. The monster snuffles and returns the way it had come, shuffling past Mark on its way back into the maze. He waits until he can no longer hear footsteps and breathing to rush to Jack's side.   
"Jack!" he calls in a whisper, shaking the younger boy gently. "Sean!"   
There is no response. Mark presses his fingers to the thin neck, feeling for a pulse; anything. There is a heartbeat, steady and relaxed as though the smaller only sleeps soundly. Mark lets out a sigh of relief and hauls the little body up onto his back. He's surprised at how light the younger is, determined to carry Sean to the exit. He won’t leave him behind. He still has to apologize for what he said; how he acted. 

 

Mark carries Sean on his back, making sure he's fully supported every few minutes, and always listening for any sign of the monster. Backtracking through every turn and tunnel, Mark makes it back to the boiler room with a few light sticks in tow. The noise of releasing pressure and steam wakes Sean and he jolts to attention on Mark's back.   
"Hey." Mark says gently, bringing the smaller around and setting him down gently. He leans Sean back onto the wall and cushions his head with his hand. Sean doesn't say anything, only looks ahead with a blank expression.  
"Jack, hey, look at me." he says gently, his voice as soothing as he can make it. Thankful for the sounds of the boiler room keeping them from discovery. Pretty blue eyes rise to meet him, wide and confused. Mark’s a little shaken by them.   
"Hey buddy," he soothes, "you're safe, I've got you."   
Sean looks away again, pulling up a sluggish arm and using it to push himself up. He fails, sliding down against the wall and Mark catches him easily, straightening him up again.   
"Looks like it's too soon for that," Mark pulls the hand not holding Jack's head away and holds it up in front of his face, "Follow my hand, okay?"   
Mark moves his hand back and forth and watches as blue eyes follow it. Up and down and around; Jack can follow his movements easily.   
"Good," Mark sighs, "Good. Now how many fingers am I holding up?"

 

Jack looks up into Marks eyes, his head shifting beneath his fingers and he moans, face contorted in pain. Alarmed, Mark pushes his fingers into Jack's skull, looking for soft spots or blood or swelling. There's nothing, but when his fingers find the soft skin of Sean's neck, Mark can feel the muscles; swollen with strain from being pulled so harshly and suddenly. He cracks one of the light sticks and holds it up to Sean's neck. His neck is barely mobile, so Mark uses his fingers to rub some of the tension in his collar and where spine connects to skull. Jack isn’t functional, still dizzy from being ripped from consciousness, and flops down into Mark's neck at the gentle contact. Little whimpers of pain leave his throat as Mark works through the worst knots as fast as he can. After a moment, Jack is asleep again and Mark takes his time to rub out all the kinks in the muscle before lifting him up bridal style and continuing on ahead. 

 

Jack wakes up again once they reach the ladder leading out of the level. He's coherent and clear, but still held tightly in Marks arms as the light filters down, blinding them slightly.   
"Sean," Mark breathes, and he can feel the smaller man flinch in his arms, "how are you feeling? Can you move now?"  
Jack looks up at him, his head seeming to move perfectly fine, His face is red with a blush as he wiggles in Mark's grip;   
"Mark! Put me down!" he cries, embarrassed. Mark obliges, letting the smaller man down gently and keeping his hands on his waist in case he falls down. Jack wobbles at first, gripping Mark's shoulders for support, but he stands on his own after a moment. They spend a moment in silence as Mark contemplates apologizing, but they end up stepping away from each other in awkward silence. Mark gestures at the ladder in front of them.   
"You go up first." Mark says kindly. Jack frowns, but doesn't bother asking why. Instead, he grabs ahold of the sturdy metal and heaves himself up the ladder. Near the top, Mark feels a breeze, pulling himself up next to Jack. He looks out over a courtyard, framed by an intimidating building and plenty of armored cars. They sit perched at the top of a construction setup on the side of a building. Just above them is an open window. Shit.   
"Outlast..." Jack gasps.


	6. Are You Ready for Freddie?

Dan sat tensely at the desk, the keyboard at his fingers as he watched each screen with equal intensity. Phil stood behind him, trying his best to keep track of the action on each screen. So far, only Freddie had started moving, but it couldn’t be long before the other two started to move as well. There was no way they were required to pass all five nights in order to pass the level...  
"Left door!" Dan screams, and Phil leaps into action, slamming the door shut with the lever near the frame. Dan doesn't even flinch, eye still trained on the screens as he waits for the animatronic to return to one of the screens. Phil waits, watching the mop of brown hair dance softly as Dan's head flicks back and forth between screens. He's used to seeing the younger in the light of a computer, late at night, sitting together on their couch...   
"Right door!"   
Phil stumbles to close the opposite door as quickly as he can, running back to open the opposite door and conserve as much power as possible. Dan continues to watch the screens, his attention focused solely on the bright lights of the monitors. 

 

The tan of Dan's skin fades in harsh light, and he looks like a terrified angel in the center of the dark room, illuminated. Slowly, Phil returns to Dan's side, watching the screens as his hands grip the back of the office chair behind Dan's broad shoulders. After a few taps on the keyboard, Dan flicks a hand toward the door to their right;   
"Open it, I see him."  
Phil does as he's told and opens the door, flicking on the light just to check. The hallway is empty beyond, a relief, and Phil starts back to the desk.   
"Shit!"   
Dan's curse leaves him startled and he scans the screen to see what's going wrong.   
"Shit shit shit shit...!" Dan abandons his chair, leaving it to fall over loudly on the floor and runs to the left side door, slamming it shut. He's breathing hard, and Phil starts to ask him if everything's okay when Dan points frantically at the opposite side of the room.   
"Get the light, Phil!" he gasps, and Phil wastes no time in running to flip the switch. Outside the room is empty, once again, but there's something running down the opposite hall. Phil turns to see Dan pressed up against the door as some heavy force smashes against it.   
"What is that!?" Phil shrieks.   
"The fucking fox!" Dan replies, loud and angry. Phil frowns; he didn't remember there being a fox in the game...  
The knocking stops and Dan runs for the computer, not bothering to right the chair as he leans his body over to push his face into the wall of monitors. Phil stays by the door, watching; waiting for something else crazy to happen. 

 

Dan has his eyes glued to the screen and his fingers on the keyboard. The tension in the room is so heavy, Phil feels like he can breathe it in. Their power is low, leaving both of them vulnerable; scared to turn on a light or shut a door. It's humid and hot, and Phil can't tell if he's sweating from the heat or the situation. Blue eyes are trained on Dan, both watching for instruction, and making sure nothing creeps up on them. It feels like they've been trapped in this room for an eternity...  
"What's the time?" Phil calls gently, quietly; trying not to distract Dan.   
For a moment, he thinks Dan hadn't heard him; but big brown eyes swivel to meet him and Dan looks a little hopeful;  
"It's 5am, Phil," he breathes, "We're so close..."  
Phil can't help the relieved smile creeping onto his face, and both of them sort of laugh; nervous. Dan turns back toward the monitors. Phil's relaxing feeling helps him calm down a little; at least, until he notices Dan's head moving about, looking quickly between screens and tapping crazily at the keyboard.   
"What?" He calls, starting toward Dan.   
"I can't find Chica..." Dan says blankly, looking toward Phil, "Phil, I can't find Chica."

 

∞

 

Dan's heart is beating a million miles an hour, his hands are sweating, his head aches.  
"Phil, I can't find Chica."  
"Who?"  
"The Duck!"  
Phil's face is frozen for a minute before he starts toward the right door; reaching for the light. Dan isn't fast enough to reach his side; he isn't even thinking, he just knows that Phil shouldn't be there. He's watched enough Markiplier to know that Chica is always in the right doorway.  
"No!"

 

A huge yellow hand already has Phil around the middle, hauling him into the dark hallway with a mechanical huff. Dan stands in the doorway, listening as Phil screams out for him. His name is filtering down the hall, Phil's comforting voice broken and strained. Dan's near hysteria, pushing his frozen feet to take him out into the hall. They won’t move. Tears are running, snot dripping as he feels a crushing weight in his chest. Music starts to filter into the room and he turns around. The screens all read "6am", mocking him. His anger propels him down the dark hallway and he runs after the fading echo of Phil's voice. 

 

At the end of the hall, Dan bursts through a door and into another office. Phil sits on the floor behind the desk, more pale than usual. He drops to Phil's side, taking his shoulders into his hands gently.   
"Phil..." he whispers, worried. Wide blue eyes look up at him, and for a moment, Dan thought the older man would cry. Instead, Phil grasps the taller by the waist and pulls him in for an awkward hug, squeezing him into his chest and breathing in Dan's hair. For a moment, Dan lets himself be comforted in the warm embrace; but pushes away too soon.   
"Philly," he says gently, running his large fingers through dark hair, "We have to finish. We have to get out of here..."   
Phil nods, and Dan stands, allowing the older boy to sit behind the desk as he surveys the room. The office here is bigger, more spacious, with a massive opening at the front.   
Fuck.   
To his left is a vent, and to his right another.   
Laying innocently on the desk is a flashlight and a set of Freddie masks.   
"It's Five Nights at Freddie's 2." Phil says from the floor, his pale hands running agitatedly through his hair. 

 

∞

 

Phil sits in the lone chair behind the desk as Dan stands to operate the cameras. His heart still beats too fast; he still feels the metal hands around his body, dragging him against his will, constricting him. He doesn't realize he's breathing has quickened until he feels Dan's hands on him. He opens his eyes in surprise; looking up into Dan's soft face. Large hands perch on his thighs as Dan uses the leverage to lean down toward him. Phil's about to ask what's wrong, but Dan's still coming closer, eyes still locked on his.   
"Dan." Phil whispers; he can feel Dan inhale his words and he grips the handles of his chair. He can't look away, he doesn't want to; He catches all the flashing movements as Dan's attention catches on his mouth before retreating back to meet his eyes. Phil can't help but reach up to put his hand on the soft curve of Dan's waist.   
He's so close, Phil can breathe in every exhale from Dan's parted lips.   
The sound of a child’s laugh startles Dan enough break his attention. Phil tightens his grip on Dan's waist, adding his other hand, which slips up under the loose black tee-shirt and makes contact with warm skin.   
"Dan." Phil repeats, and Dan's attention returns. It's enough of a question for Dan to reply with a breathless;  
"You're okay?"   
Neither of them break eye contact.   
"Yeah," Phil's breathing in his air again; "Yeah, I’m good."  
Suddenly, the silence around them is too stark. Too loud.   
Dan yanks a Freddie mask over Phil's head and returns to the computer. Phil can hear him typing, and the winding of a music box, but the mask cuts out all his vision. There's a lot of typing, the sounds of flipping from room cameras to the vents, but Phil leaves on his mask. He doesn't want to see. 

 

Ten minutes into the level, both Freddie and balloon boy have taken up residence in their office. Phil can hear the string of curses as Dan pulls on a Freddie head. The child’s laughter is disturbing, even in the dark, as Phil still refuses to take off the mask. Dan's standing next to the chair, as if to keep whatever threat there may be from taking Phil again, and Phil doesn't miss the gesture. He reaches out blindly to put his hand on Dan's arm reassuringly, but the robotic sound of a jump scare rings throughout the room. Dan's shriek has him pulling off the mask as Phil stands to attention at the sight of a gangly black puppet ripping Dan's massive body over the desk and starting to drag him down the hall.   
"Dan!"   
Phil starts after the puppet, grabbing the flashlight and shining it onto the black mass of limbs. Dan writhes and screams in the tight hold;   
"Music box!"   
Phil reaches for the button on the desk and holds it down; winding it up without taking his eyes off the retreating form of the puppet. Dan's still fighting, using his legs to struggle, trying his hardest to escape. Once the music box starts playing again, the puppet releases Dan and slinks back into the shadows beyond the door. Phil rushes forward immediately, just as Dan is ripped backward into the darkness with gasp. Phil runs after him, but there is no sign of Dan at all. Phil runs back into the office; checking the time. It's only 4am. There's still so much time before he can continue on. 

 

Phil hates this game; he doesn't have the attention span to deal with Freddie and Chica storming in at the same time as balloon boy, as the puppet's box dies! It's only 5am, it feels like the level should have ended hours ago with how hard he's concentrating, but the bunny still lurks in the vent and that damned puppet still haunts him as he recharges the music box over and over. It's a miracle he even finishes the level, considering that by the time 6am flashes across the screen, he has Freddie and Bonnie and Balloon boy in his office and the music box has run its last notes. Behind the mask, Phil only hears the mechanical retreat of the animatronics. He practically rips the mask from his head as he clumsily vaults the desk, tripping over his feet in order to rush down the hall to where he can still remember Dan's terrified screams getting further and further away. Once Phil reaches the end of the black hallway, he ends up in a dirty room where Dan sits staring at another screen.   
"Hello." A child’s voice calls out.   
Phil runs up to where Dan is perched on the edge of his seat. His hands itch to touch him, and he lets his fingers brush against sturdy shoulders as they rest on the back of the chair. 

 

∞

 

They get through Five Nights at Freddie's 3 with relative ease, as Dan simply mashes the child’s voice button and Phil stays focused on resetting everything. Always. It only takes them twenty minutes before they're running out of the little office at full speed. Dan straight up punches the wall when they end up in a child’s bedroom.   
Five Nights of Freddie’s 4 was his least favorite.  
It hit too close to home.   
He was sweating twice as much as he had through the last few levels; his hands slipped on the doorknobs too often, twitchy fingers faltering to hold the door shut...   
"Phil, man the right door." he commands shakily, glad when Phil complies easily. Both of them are silent; a strange occurrence. It's a strange comradery that starts in the space speech can no longer fill. Dan's hands are waving, when they aren't attached to the door, and Phil always seems to understand what he means. A large hand circling? Phil checks the bed. Rapid patting of the wall near Dan's door? Phil checks the closet. Phil rapid breathing distracts him, and he realizes that something is tugging on his door. Dan rushes to help him, securing his hands over Phil's smaller ones and pulling back against the animatronic on the opposite side. The sound of whirring has Phil shining the light on the bed where three little Freddies sit twitching on the bed. Dan wonders how they're built when they scatter. 

 

It takes too long for this level to finish, but Dan's glad that neither of them got snatched this time. When the little alarm clock on the table starts to ring, both he and Phil practically jump out of their skin. It's a blessing and a curse when they leave; walking down the hallway where the windows make Dan uncomfortable. The immersion is ruined when he pauses to look out one of them and it's obviously a screen behind a pane of glass. It's a little relieving...   
At the very end of the hallway is an elevator door that Phil has already called by the time Dan has reached his side. They don't even have to wait before the doors slide open and they step into a round room with a fan blade spinning shadows all around.   
"Welcome, Eggs Benedict" a robotic voice says just as the elevator starts to move.   
"Damnit."

 

∞

 

Phil had followed all the directions quickly as Dan watched from the entrance of the vent they had both shimmied through. Ballora had been zapped into submission, and Fun time Foxy was on her stage. They continue forward to where Circus Baby lives, and Phil slams his fist into the button. Once.   
Twice.   
Three times.   
The guide goes offline.   
The motion trigger warnings start to play.   
"I don't recognize you." a childlike voice echoes around the room; "You are new."  
Dan automatically reaches out for Phil in the darkness.   
"I remember this scenario, however."  
Phil grabs Dan's arm.   
"It's a strange thing to want to do; to come here. I’m curious what events would lead a person to want to spend their nights in a place like this."  
Phil is already dragging Dan toward the carved out desk; shoving Dan toward it and waiting for him to fit himself inside.   
"There is a space under the desk! Someone before you crafted it into a hiding place and it worked for him. I recommend you hurry, though. You will be safe there."  
Phil presses himself in behind Dan; pressing the taller boy down into the back of the small area and shielding him with his body. As soon as the desk slides closed; the sounds of moving could be heard. Dan finds himself clinging to Phil in terror. 

 

Phil holds the little door closed as tightly as he can manage; ignoring the little murmurs of creatures from the other side. They tap metal fingers on metal; peeking in with plastic eyes. It's not soon enough when the pretty voice comes on again;   
"When your guide comes back online, he is going to tell you that he was unsuccessful; that you must restart the system manually. He will then tell you to crawl through Ballora's gallery as fast as you can to reach the breaker room. If you follow his instructions, you will die."  
Phil helps drag Dan out from under the desk.   
"Ballora will not return to her stage anymore; she will catch you! The power will be restored shortly. When you crawl through Ballora gallery, go slowly. She cannot see you and can only listen for your movement. When you hear her music grow louder, she is near; listening for you. Wait. And be still."  
The guide returns; and relays the same message. He deactivates. Phil leads Dan through the dark vent and out into Ballora gallery. They crawl through the room; slowly, quietly. They can make out the form of a massive, metal ballerina; she spins in circles. She spins around them. They stop. They wait. As soon as she leaves, Phil runs for the exit, dragging Dan behind him. 

 

Resetting the system is ridiculously hard. Phil pulls open the little box and starts to reset each room, but Dan continuously slams it shut as he sees the outline of Freddie moving. It takes too long. There is too much stress, Phil wants to leave. He seriously considers leaving at the halfway point as they work together to reset each room. Once the lights flood the room; there is an exit on the opposite side of the cord filled room. Phil wasn't waiting for Freddie to return; he shoves Dan through it and steps through himself.   
"Hey there, kiddos!"  
Hanayu hands each of them a water bottle and what looks like a packaged brownie with a smile. Dan snatches both the water and food before Phil even registers to reach for them.   
"You guys did great; do you want to review the footage? Take a little break? The feed we have public hasn't started yet."  
Phil breathes a sigh of relief as Hanayu guides them to a large computer console filled with many monitors. Some of them show Mark and Jack running through a dark tunnel, but the rest replay some of their terror from the levels before. It's a relief to sit down and not worry.


	7. Outlast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly Warning; Outlast contains intense violence, blood, gore, and sexual themes.   
> Squiks/Triggers in this chapter includes an attempt at writing a panic attack, intense situations, physical harm, blood, vomit, and reference of death and rot.

Mark helped Jack up past the windowsill gently; trying not to notice how much smaller Jack's hand was. How much smaller the Irishman was in general. He watches as Jack paces the room a bit, watching for any sign of change from the game this level was based on. Outlast was a true horror game; full of jump scares and brutality... Mark really hopes this level is short considering the massive head trauma Jack had already suffered from.   
"Sean." he calls softly, trotting over to the door on the opposite side of the room. Jack nods and moves behind Mark as he pushes open the door quietly. The lights are on in the hallway outside, but there's no sign of movement. Mark steps out into the walkway and starts off for the first open door. Jack's right behind him, his eyes always scanning what’s left behind as they move forward. It's nice to know someone has your back; Mark thinks to himself. 

 

Inside the next room Jack stands guard at the door while Mark ruffles through some papers on the desk. Mostly character expositions and subtle clues to the uninformed litter the desk; but inside the top drawer is a handheld camera and a battery. Without hesitating, Mark fills the camera and brings it up to his face. At first; the camera focus on the computer screen, but then Mark reels it around to film Sean in the corner. Arms wrapped around himself, eyes tired and downcast.   
No one should see Jacksepticeye this way.  
Mark lowers the camera, setting it back in the drawer and joining the other male at the door.   
"Let's go." He murmurs into Sean's ear; guiding him out the door with his hand firmly on his slender waist. He feels the little shudder, but he says nothing. Down the hall a ways is blocked by random objects and a filing cabinet. Mark starts to reach for Jack, to pull him back and away and protect him with his body by going first through the small space; but he's already fitted himself into and through. With a sigh, Mark shoves himself through as well, making sure not to let Jack out of his sight. Again. 

 

When the door closes across from the breakroom, neither boy pays it any mind. Mark just pushes Jack through the doorway and closes the door behind himself as they inspect the dripping vent shaft and what really does look like a tied piece of human intestine. The smell in the room is something unexpected as Mark brings his hand up to cover his nose. It smells of dead things; like rats in the walls or mice trapped in glue under the sink. He holds back a gag and watches as Sean does the same. As soon as they recover enough to talk, Jack points up to the vent and coughs;  
"Help me up?"

 

Mark nods his head;   
"Of course!" He chokes, climbing up the broken bits and launching himself up to grab the ledge. With minimal struggle, he pulls himself inside, his head poking back out to grin at Sean.   
"Show off" Jack grumbles, but clambers up the table bits to take Mark's outstretched hand and wiggle in next to him. The vent is really too small for them to sit in together, so they start inching their way through it and out the end. Mark drops to the floor with a loud thump, then reaches up to help Jack down. Jack shakes his head, but Mark still catches him when he launches himself down to the ground. The flat look is enough to make Mark set him gently on the ground.   
"I'm not some fragile glass, Mark. I won't break" he mutters under his breath; but his cheeks are painted red and so are the tips of his ears. Mark won't admit it's cute. 

 

If the little bit of flesh and blood before stank; then the inside of the library reeked. The smell of rotting meat and mold and feces assaulted Mark's nose as soon as the door opened and the screaming body fell. He doesn't know how they fabricated it, smell realistic and disgusting. Behind him, Jack retches, milky white liquid dropping to the floor as he starts to wobble. For the second time; Mark catches him. This time, Jack doesn't complain. With his support, Mark can tote Jack through the horrible room, not even stopping to hear the impaled man scream about variants and turning back. There was only one way to go from here...   
Finally out of the library, Mark startles harshly when he sees the giant pink man walk around the upper floor; chains jingling loudly as he mumbles to himself. He waits for the abomination to leave, allowing Jack to stand on his own once again. Together, they head toward the next blockade. When they reach it, Mark manages to push Jack back before he can squeeze inside the little path, and shuffle through it himself...  
"Little pig!" 

 

The hand on his neck is very real. So is the stench of rotten food as the massive man breathes harshly into his face. He can't hear what the thing is saying as he's ripped bodily from the crawl space and smashed into the glass wall. Jack's panicked voice does catch his attention, but he regrets making eye contact. He regrets ever putting that expression on such a pretty face. The smile he offers is not reassuring as he's thrown down a story and blacks out on the floor; his last memory a teary mess of blue eyes and his own name screamed so sweetly.

 

∞

 

Jack screams Marks name as he tries to pull the other man away from the giant mess of a murderer.   
"No, No!"   
His hands are slipping;   
"Mark! Hold on, Mark!"  
The solid warmth disappears under his fingertips as the larger is torn form his place and smashed roughly into a glass wall. It shatters loudly and Jack catches brown eyes looking at him.   
"Mark! Mark!" he screams, his voice going harsh. He can feel his vocal chords straining; breaking. A little smile breaks out on the handsome face, and just like that he's falling.   
"Jesus, no! Mark!" Jack's pressed up against the glass on the opposite side of the blockade. He sees his friend land hard on the floor. It's a relief to see the floor around Mark dip and swallow most of the momentum; but once his head hits the ground, Jack can see the lights go out. 

 

The pink abomination slinks off, chains still rattling, and Jack waits for the sound to stop before squeezing through and hopping off the ledge. The floor is very soft where he lands, saving him from injury as he scrambles across the uneven surface to inspect Mark's fallen body. Black hair falls across Mark's forehead, and Jack gently moves it aside, making sure there is no injury to the front of his head. When he cradles Marks head in his hands, however, there is a bit of blood dripping onto his hand. He feels around for any glass and is relieved when there is none. It looks like his head got scraped when he was forced through the glass.   
"Jesus... fuck!" Jack whimpers, crumpling next to Mark's body. This whole ordeal wasn't worth what he felt like he was giving up; wasn't worth the pain. Jack knows he's strong. He's as fit as he's ever been. He also knows that carrying Mark isn't his best choice. Instead, he wraps his arms around Mark's chest, heaving him across the floor and leaning him in a clean space of desk a little ways away. Props him up, checks his head again, and then stands. If they were getting out of here, it was up to Jack. 

 

Getting the security pass was easy. He knew where it was, jogging through the computer room, tracking blood with his shoes, through a storage room and down a hall where a man really does sit in a wheelchair; muttering. Twitching. He passes by slowly, eyes focused on the variant, the sprints through the doorway and away from the room of crazies staring at static. The pass is just beyond, on the dead body in the chair. He takes it and runs back the way he came; leaping up over the wheelchair as the man launches himself out of it. He manages not to be caught by the raving lunatic, instead booking it back to Mark. He drags the larger man to the security room, scanning the card, opening the door, and dragging Mark inside. He shuts the door behind him. It won’t lock.   
"Fuck..."

 

Jack rears a hand back and slaps it across Mark's face. The man flinches, but his eyes don't open. Frantic, Jack looks around for anything to wake Mark up. There’s a cold cup of coffee on the desk and Jack snatches it, throwing the liquid across Mark's face and chest. Spluttering, Mark twitches. Jack rears back and slaps him again. This time, a large hand comes up and snatches his wrist, squeezing it hard; bruising. Jack sucks in a breath, almost scared.  
"Dammit Sean!" Mark growls, pulling him closer by the arm. His kneeling legs scrape across the floor with force and Jack is propelled into a solid chest.   
"What the fuck? It smells like old coffee." Mark complains, and Jack presses his hands against Mark's chest to push himself up and away.   
"Get in the locker." He commands, running over to the keyboard and pressing the spacebar a few times. Nothing happens, but he can here Mark climb into and shut one of the lockers behind him. He tries inputting a few basic keyboard commands, but nothing works. There's a password; but Jack hasn't seen anything that may give him a clue. He tries Wallrider first; it fails.   
Next was Billy.   
Variant.   
Asylum.  
Irritated, Jack slams his fists on the table, raking his brain for more options. Anything written in blood or repeated during his previous playthrough....  
His head snaps up and his fingers return to the keys;   
W-H-I-T-N-E-S-S

 

The screens light up with videos and Jack races back to the lockers and climbs inside one; thankfully empty, and waits for the inevitable visit of the big pink freak. His breathing quickens as soon as the sound of a body crashing against a solid door. His heart is nearly leaping out of his chest; full body flinching as the door flies off its hinges and the sound of heavy footsteps and chains echo around the room, mumbling. Angry. He isn't expecting it when the door to his locker is ripped open and a hand to wrap itself around his neck, picking him up and slamming him against the metal backing. He grunts in pain, breathing impaired, just as he's dropped to the floor. Adrenaline spiking, Jack scrambles to his feet and runs. His legs carry him through the hall and around the corner, propelling himself down a flight of stairs. Stepping faster than he ever has, he makes it to the last few steps before his foot slips on a worn stair and he goes tumbling, rolling, falling... He hits the far wall hard, enough to disorientate him, but still pushes himself up to his feet. He wobbles; pushing his dizzy vision to focus on the gaping crack in the wall. He stumbles toward it; hazy; he can't hear the chains; he can't hear the footsteps until something grabs him by the back of the shirt and propels him through the wall and onto the flooded floor beyond. 

 

He breathes hard, almost blind, laying on his side in the water. He doesn't realize he's crying until a warm hand brushes through his hair and wipes over his cheeks gently.   
"Sean."  
It's Mark. Of course it's Mark.   
"Sean, talk to me. Are you okay?"  
He sniffles; pushes himself up. His arms are weak; adrenaline ebbing away, he almost falls back into the shallow water, but Mark's hand steadied him.   
"Jesus, fuck." Jack wheezes; unconsciously, his hand comes up to grip tightly to Mark's.   
"It's okay; it’s okay Sean."   
Mark is rubbing his thumb up and down the side of Jack's face, waiting for him to calm down, but Jack is still hazy. Still breathing too hard. He lets the small gesture ground him, but it isn't really helping. He's still riled; still on the verge of a panic attack. He doesn't realize that he isn't getting enough oxygen.

 

∞

 

Jack's eyes are glazing over, his chest rising and falling to rapidly... Mark can't keep his attention. He has Jack's face in his hands... he doesn't know what to do.   
"Jack!" he cries, "Sean!"  
It's obvious that he can't hear him, but his smaller hands grip tightly to his wrists, like he's trying. Jack's trying, and that’s enough to keep Mark calling his name until he hears it. He pulls one hand out of the tight grasp and runs it through the now messy tuft of brown hair on Jack's head, trying to soothe him, to calm him. After five minutes, Mark can't stand kneeling awkwardly in the water, so he moves both himself and Jack against the wall, leaning the smaller man across his chest, placing his head onto his shoulder. His hand goes back into Jack’s hair. 

 

It takes another few minutes for Jack to come back to himself. Waking up in Mark's arms, warm and comfortable and wet... Jack flinches, slamming his head straight into Mark's chin.   
"Ah, Jack!" Mark exclaims, half asleep himself. His hand comes up and pulls Jack against his chest again, his other hand coming around a lithe abdomen to hold the other down.   
"Babe, come ‘on. You hit me hard; Jesus, how thick is your head?"   
He slurs, rubbing his jaw, and his eyes, then looking down at the other male. Jack is a little paler than normal, and his face is frozen in a slightly panicked, partly confused expression. Mark scratches at his black hair, waiting for the younger to speak.   
"M'sorry" was not the response he was expecting, and Mark's attention snaps back to Jack.   
"What do you mean, you're sorry?" Mark asks, "It was an accident."  
"No-- I," Jack fumbles for words, mouth opening and closing like a fish. In the end, he just closes his mouth and pushes himself up out of Mark's lap and stands. He's soaked from the waist down, and his right shoulder is still damp from when he fell. Mark stands as well.   
"Let's just go." 

 

Mark lets Jack lead, hopping over the old desk in the hall and sloshing toward where the main power source stands in the basement. They turn the corner and Jack climbs up onto into the flooded room beyond, stopping to help Mark clamber up as well.   
"I'll take the left room if you take the right." Jack whispers, eyes scanning. Mark nods;  
"Sure. 30 seconds once we enter the room? After the countdown, slam the button and hide; whichever room stays clear will be the one to flip the switch. The one who doesn't will have to wait at the button."  
Jack nods along, then leaps down into the water and sloshes all the way to the room, stopping at the closed door and waiting for Mark to follow suite. He does, hopping down less dramatically and picking his way through the room to his own door. They make eye contact, nod, then they both rush into the rooms. Mark closes the door behind him, counting down from 30. He runs over to the button, hand hovering;   
15  
He can hear Jack through the wall, shuffling.   
10  
His hand is shaking, he's sweating.  
5  
His teeth are gritted together hard;   
4  
3  
2  
1  
Mark's hand slams down hard on the button and he rushes to the lockers behind him and climbing in. He hears Jack hit the button a little later than he did. He hopes Jack found a good hiding spot because the sound of a body hitting a door. Hinges breaking. He holds his breath, waits.   
Another door breaks down, but it isn't his.   
Fuck. 

 

Mark rushes from his locker and bolts out of the room, his feet splash loudly in the water as he runs for the now open door on the far side of the flooded room. He leaps up the steps and hits the wall in an attempt to turn quickly, still running full pelt toward the room with the electric switch. The door slams open and Mark rushes inside, searching the room for the power lever, closing the door as an afterthought. He spots it at the opposite end of the room and heads toward it, throwing his body into a downward pull that makes the walls whir to life. Task finished, he leaps into the locker beside him and waits. It takes too long; Mark's practically climbing out of the locker when the sound of flesh hitting wood startles him. The variant is here. He holds his breath, hoping that Jack has gotten to the button, and waits. The large man is muttering, but Mark's blood is rushing in his ears. He can't hear it. It feels like time crawls by, the few seconds the Variant uses to check the room seeming like an eternity. The footsteps patter away from the room and Mark takes a steadying breath before sneaking out of the locker and peeking out the doorway into the hall. 

 

The man has gone down the opposite side of the hall. Mark tries to sneak his way back to Jack, and he makes it a little past halfway before the variant is chasing him. His adrenaline spikes and he leaps over the desk blocking the way and back into the flooded room.   
"Mark!" Jack calls, and Mark sees him. He's standing in the entrance to the hallway, waving his arms, and Mark runs for him.   
"Go, Jack!" He calls, as he leaps into the flooded passage, splashing water up over his legs and Jack's retreating back. They run back to the crack in the wall, then up the stairs--  
The path back to the security room is blocked by a gate, the only way forward is up. Without thinking, Mark pushes Jack behind him and climbs up the last flight of stairs to the door beyond. His heart speeds up as he reaches for the knob. It's unlocked, soundless as he pushes it open.   
"Congratulations, gentlemen; you’ve reached the halfway point."


	8. The Bathroom Locks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but intense. This chapter contains Sexual Themes.

The sound of heels clicking against the polished concrete floor startles Phil to attention. He swivels slightly in the office chair, careful not to dislodge Dan who rests against his shoulder.   
"Hey" Nicole says quietly, the small heels of her boots lifting off the floor as she tiptoes closer, "I've got some coffee for you two."   
She sets two paper cups on the desk where Phil is going over the data to reveal to the public, it smells amazing.   
"Thank you." Phil nods, a hand coming up to keep Dan from slipping. Nicole nods and heads back to where Hanayu is talking with Jack and Mark, who have just finished their levels. Phil turns back to the screen, making sure to highlight the scene of him and Dan in Five Nights at Freddie’s 2. He can't help but watch it, though; seeing his hands on the larger boy. It's a bit of a rush. Dan stirs and Phil quickly lets the video continue, making sure to put in unnecessary jump-cuts for the phans. It only takes a few minutes for Phil to finish up writing editing notes and placing tags. Once done, Phil takes a swig of hot coffee, taps on the table for a minute... he sighs, moving Dan from his shoulder and pushing his chair back to stand. He heads for the bathroom, across the room and down a little hall. 

 

Thankfully, the faucet is not automatic, so Phil lets it run, putting his head under the flow of water. It's refreshing, takes his mind off of the feeling of panic. The rush of life or death. Perhaps he likes it a little too much.   
"Phil?"   
It's that soft, half-asleep voice; one that Phil knows too well. He shoves his head further into the sink.   
"You okay?"   
Of course Dan wouldn't leave it alone. A large hand comes up to rest on his shoulder, and Phil pulls himself out from the sink, uncaring that his hair is sopping wet. Beside him, Dan removes his hand.   
"I thought maybe the games made you sick. You disappeared."   
Phil can't stop thinking of his hand on Dan's smooth skin; about the look of concern, the moment... He doesn't realize when, but he's pressing Dan up against the counter, leaning him over the sink, kissing him. Dan's surprised squeak doesn't stop him. 

 

Dan tastes like coffee and the chocolate brownie Hanayu had given them. Strong hands grip his arms and it only spurs him on. He licks across Dan's mouth, eliciting his name; a harsh gasp  
"Phil!"  
Phil never really noticed he had a bit of a power trip until now, when he's biting Dan's plush bottom lip with groan.   
"Dan"  
It's always exciting, kissing Dan, but when the larger boy is under him, pressed roughly against a counter top with Phil's tongue in his mouth, well. He might be addicted; enough not to hear Dan's plea until he's shoved far enough away to stop kissing him.   
"Phil! The door isn't locked! What if someone comes in? Is this really the place to be doing... this!?"   
He's right, but Phil isn't letting him go just yet. Phil wraps his arm around Dan's back and pulls him around roughly, pinning him to the door and kissing at his neck and under his jaw. He knows Dan isn't one for conflict, but he doesn't want to upset him either, so he snakes a hand around and clicks the lock into place.   
"There" he murmurs, and his voice is a little deeper, a little gravelly with the desire to run his hands across every inch of Dan he's allowed. The quiet, reverent "Phil" that falls from his upturned face cascades over Phil's nerves and god, he's fucked. He's defiantly losing his grip on reality.

 

He's somehow managed to get Dan's shirt rucked up over his chest as he runs pale hands over warm skin. Dan has his hand in his mouth to quiet the gasps and moans as Phil adores him. When pale fingers push down under the hem of Dan's black jeans and over boney hips, Dan's entire body spasms. The deep, wanton "Oh." can't be stopped by his hand, and Phil knows they're both in over their heads now. It’s not that he wants sex; no. Sex is good, but right now, this feels like an affirmation. Like somehow, this will make Phil's nerves calm, like this will erase the animatronic hands on him. Will undo the sight of Dan being dragged away, screaming. Screaming for him. Phil bites down around Dan's ribs, his fingers gripping around a solid leg. Dan's stuttering, not aloud but in desperate gasping.   
"It’s okay, Phil" he's chanting, "I'm here."

 

Phil doesn't realize he's crying until they're both on the floor, Dan cradling him in strong arms, tears dripping into already wet hair.   
"I'm sorry" Phil cries, and Dan shakes his head where it rests on his, pressing a little kiss to Phil's forehead.   
"Don't say that, Phil." Dan laughs, hollow. "Don't say that."  
They sit together on the floor for a while, too caught up in each other to care. After a while, they dissolve into quiet conversation;  
"When they grabbed you, I couldn't move. I was so scared, Phil." Dan breathes. Phil nods,   
"I'm sorry." Phil responds. Dan laughs again, a little humor in it this time.   
"It grabbed me pretty hard." Phil says, lifting his shirt to reveal large bruises in the shape of hands all around his rib cage. Dan gasps.   
"When it was dragging me, it dislodged my contacts. I couldn't see, couldn't move. I could only hear you screaming"   
Phil's chest is tight;   
"When it threw me into the next level, I couldn't get back. I tried, but.. There was no way."   
Dan is running his fingers through Phil's hair, listening.   
"When you got taken, it's was like a slap to the face. I sat there and let you do everything yourself; I let you get taken away. I let it happen, did nothing to stop it."   
He's crying again, quiet this time. Tears just flowing silently down pale cheeks.   
"I'm sorry."

 

When they rejoin the others, Phil's hair is mostly dry and Dan's eyes are only a little red. No one questions it, no one says anything, they just let them sit at their desk, a little too close. It's nice to have a little privacy.


	9. Reaching a crossroads

Nicole welcomes both Jack and Mark into the room beyond, handing each of them a water bottle.   
"There are some sweets on the desk for you," She smiles, "and all the footage is available for editing immediately. Whenever you're ready, we can get both of you set up."   
Jack nods, already halfway through his bottle. Beside him, Mark is only playing with his, looking around at all the monitors in the dark room. Whatever, Jack doesn't care. His face is hot because his blood sugar is low, not because he remembers Mark's half asleep voice calling him—  
Jack rushes over to the desk and hurriedly shoves a blueberry muffin in his mouth.   
He isn't thinking about it!   
He's thinking about his girlfriend—about beautiful smiles and soft touches, holding her to him while they sleep. About warm hands and safe embraces. Suddenly, he can't swallow.   
"I need to step outside; is there any way I can get out of here?" Jack asks, turning to look at Nicole. She looks surprised, but nods, motioning for him to follow her through a doorway labeled "Staff Only" and down a spiral staircase. At the bottom is a glowing exit sign and Jack goes to push the door open below it when a hand stops him;   
"Sean."   
It's Nicole; her pretty face pinched in worry,   
"I won't ask about it, and I won't tell anyone where you are. Can you get back alone or do you want me to wait here inside the door?"  
Jack musters a little smile for her;   
"I can get back, thank you."   
She nods and starts back up the stairs. 

 

Once he can't hear her footsteps anymore, Jack rushes out the door and pulls his phone from his pocket. It's soaked, but its working. He dials Signe's number and waits while the phone rings. She doesn't pick up, so he calls again. This time, her voice filters through the line and Jack's never been so happy to hear it.  
"Sean?" she asks, her voice sounding sleepy. Jack forgot there was a time difference between here and there.   
"Sorry, Wiish." He says, throat closing up, "I just needed to hear your voice."  
Jack can hear the covers on their bed rustle as she sits up;   
"What’s wrong?" She asks, worry clear in her voice, "What happened?"  
It takes Jack a second to swallow that frog, but he does it.   
"Nothing happened, baby. It's the halfway point of the event and I missed you." he lies. She sees through it, just as she knew he would.   
"It's about Mark, isn't it?"   
He can't help but laugh mirthlessly in answer; he doesn't keep secrets from here. He can't. Doesn't want to.   
"He called me ‘babe’." he admits. 

 

She's silent on her end of the line, and Jack knows she's angry at Mark, not at him, but it still stings a little.   
"During the game, I had a bit of a panic attack. He was there when I woke up; he was half asleep, had me cuddled up close. I accidently head-butted him in the chin..."  
He didn't even have to explain anymore, Signe was already out of bed, walking around, irritated.   
"We ended up in the same hotel, too."  
She sighs and Jack slumps down on the side of the building, looking out over the gloomy backyard. The grass is yellow, swaying in the light breeze. The rain had fallen while he was inside, making the few trees nearby sag with added weight. It was so serene, the sound of small birds flitting around, singing.   
"You called me which means you feel some way." she says; "Tell me, Sean."  
God, Jack loves her. His heart swells with it, and he can feel the tears start to fall down his cheeks.   
"I hate him, Wiish. I mean, of course I don't, but it's been years. He's shut me out, lead me on, I feel like his toy and I hate it. I'm happy with you. I'm so happy, Wiish; but he's just reopening wounds he doesn't realize he's caused."   
He itches to feel her hands on him, in his hair, hugging him; he misses her. 

 

"Listen to me, Sean."   
He can't help but obey;   
"Endure this, make your choice. Don't let him stop you from helping all those people, from helping your charity. Don't let him control you, don't let him lead you by the nose. Stay aware; but open. Maybe something will happen and it will change everything. Don't use me as an excuse to make yourself miserable."  
Jack sobs into the phone, unable to stop;   
"Call me when you finish the game; I'm always here. I miss you; can't wait for you to come home."  
"Love you, Wiish"   
He can hear the smile in her voice;   
"Love you too."  
It doesn't make him feel any less guilty for the way he's feeling, but it gives him a sense of drive. He wipes his face dry and sits down on the semi-dry ground by the building's overhang. He wants to go home, he wants this to be over. He doesn't want to go back inside and face Mark. Leaning back against the wall, Jack takes in the grey afternoon. It's enough to calm his inner turmoil for a little bit.   
"I miss you, Wiish." He says to the sky, tired smile stretching over his face. 

 

∞

 

Mark notices the Jack is gone, but he doesn't ask about it. It isn't any of his business. Instead, he plants himself at his assigned desk and starts going over the footage. He's ten minutes in when Hanayu pulls Nicole aside and asks about Jack.   
"Sean is outside; I suggest giving him his privacy. He knows his way back."   
Mark feels a little guilty, but there isn't much reason for it, so he turns back to his monitor and types in a few editing notes. He watches himself wandering Vanish's maze, watches himself shove Jack into the hole in the wall, watches himself insult the smaller youtuber. His gut tightens when he sees the look on Jack's face in the camera's light, how hurt he is. How much it really affected him. His fist clenches hard, then he highlights the fight and types out a note;  
Edit Out

 

He skips over the parts where they wander further, lets the part where Sean saves him stay in the final cut, cuts out all the parts where he's a little too close to the younger man. A little too familiar, a little too touchy. He watches himself being overprotective, bites his lip, cuts out the part where he catches Jack, still feeling the firm lines of his waist. Jack vomiting doesn't make the final cut either. Mark's sipping on his coffee when he sees himself being violently shoved through the glass by the monster. That isn't what catches his eye, no, it's Jack. He's pressed against the glass, tears in his eyes, screaming as Mark's body falls to the ground. The floor dips with the weight, but Jack's still screaming, watching Mark's body wiggle with the shock of the still settling floor. Without a second thought, Jack's leaping off the balcony, landing in the soft ground, rushing to his side, holding him gently, making sure he isn't injured. The smaller man pulls him to lean against a desk and it freezes there, cameral still focusing on Mark. He skips through the wait, tagging it, then resumes when Jack rushes back and drags him into the security room. Jack slaps him hard, and Mark snorts a little. When he reaches for the coffee and throws it on Mark, he finally understands the still lingering smell. Damnit Sean.

 

Mark watches as the giant, pink fucker opens Jack's locker and slams him around, watches him run out of his shot, then watches himself follow. It's tense and Mark's on the edge of his seat watching himself leap down the stairs and practically throw Jack into the next room. He tags the entire panic attack, not wanting to invade Jack's privacy, but can't help but stop when he sees Jack slam his face into Mark's chin. He rewinds, turns up the volume in his headphones and watches.   
"Ah! Jack!"  
Mark's eyes are trained on Sean, as he comes back online.   
"Babe, c'mon, you hit me hard. How thick is your head?"  
Mark couldn't miss the slightly hurt look on Sean's face. It pulls at his chest, makes him feel guilty again. Sad. Mark selects it to be cut and moves on. He's already done with his feed when Sean returns. It's clear that the smaller man has been crying, but Mark lets it go, standing up and heading for the bathroom. Something about this seemed... Off. 

 

∞

 

Jack sits at his desk, glad that Mark had left, and watches the footage from the last game. All of the edits Mark had made showed up as ghosts on his screen. He isn't surprised that most of the footage has been cut, even less surprised that he's taken out the fight; the insult. Jack wonders if he even regrets it. His mood sours, and he continues through the footage, leaving in half of what Mark hadn't. Him vomiting doesn't make the final cut, neither does his panic attack, but everything else is fine. He doesn't lie. He wants this all out in the open. He wants closure.   
"Hey, Sean."   
It's Nicole again, her smile sweet and coffee in hand.   
"It's got chocolate in it; it might make you feel a little better."   
Jack smiles at her, genuinely.   
"Thanks a lot, Nicole."   
He takes the coffee from her and it smells amazing; like fresh espresso and milk chocolate. It's not too sweet, thankfully, it's just a comforting sort of flavor that lets his muscles unwind. She smiles wider and heads back to where Hanayu is looking over Dan and Phil's edits. 

 

Jack stands and walks over to the pair;   
"Hey, uh, Hanayu?" he calls. The smaller woman looks up at him instantly;   
"What’s up?"  
"How much longer will we have until the rest of the game starts?" he asks.   
"Another twenty minutes." she says, then pushes herself up off the back of Phil's empty chair motions for Jack to follow her through the same door that Nicole had. The sound of tapping heels means that Nicole is following. Instead of heading downstairs, Hanayu swipes her card at a door nearby and ushers Jack inside. The room is dim, but it's covered in windows, filled with water and snacks and comfy chairs.   
"This is another employee breakroom, for the ones who work down in Vanish or Outlast. Since this is our opening weekend, we have limited staff. It'll be empty for another few hours. You can hang out in here for the time being, it looks like you could use a break."   
She tosses him something.   
"Use that if you get locked out. I'll need it back once the game starts."  
It's her key card, a picture of Hanayu smiling awkwardly adorning it. Jack can't help but laugh. Hanayu smiles and Nicole shuts the door with a nod on her way out. 

 

"Jack, wake up. It's time to go."  
Groggily, Jack pushes himself up.   
"Wiish?" he asks.   
"It's Nicole; let’s get you up."  
Jack rubs his eyes clear and looks around. He must have fallen asleep in the breakroom. Nicole pulls the keycard from his neck and pulls him up gently. He stands on his own, following her from the room back to where the others were.   
"There he is." Hanayu says, standing at the front of the gamer group.   
"Alright; let’s get back to business. You've all been treated; except Jack."  
Jack does a mental checklist of pain, and finds none.   
"I'm fine."   
Hanayu nods but hands him a few pills;   
"For the neck injury and the nausea." she whispers. He pops them in his mouth and steals Dan's water to wash them down.   
"You'll be switching levels for the next half, so Dan and Phil will be headed downstairs with Nicole, and Mark and Jack will head upstairs with me."   
Nicole already has Dan and Phil in tow as Hanayu leads them back toward the stairs and into another glass elevator.  
"Good luck." she says, making eye contact with Jack. With a nod, she pushes a button on the wall and the two of them are sealed into the elevator as it jerks upwards. Jack shoves his hands in his pockets and turns away from Mark.


	10. The Final Hurdle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't puke at the end.

Dan holds onto Phil's arm, nerves raising the hair on his neck and arms. Phil stands brave as the doors open to reveal a dark hallway, damp and molded. The thickness of the air made both boys cough harshly.   
"Let’s go" Phil whispers, taking his hand and leading him forward. On the wall was a note, half ripped;   
"Hey! I think I left the keys in the boiler room!" was the only readable part. Boiler room, so heat? Dan tugs Phil forward, through the halls slowly, looking for a change in temperature. There were no signs of life in the tunnels, but there were small tunnels and holes dug low in the walls. Dan's hackles were still raised and he listened intently for any sign of monsters, or murderers, or ghosts...   
Phil sneezed violently, and it echoed through the halls. Dan pushes him up against the wall, hand over his mouth.   
"I think there's something in here." he whispers, terrified. He can see Phil's disturbed too.   
"Let’s try and be quiet." Phil whispers back. 

 

Together, they tiptoed through the halls, avoiding puddles and trying to find warmth. It took a long time for them to find the boiler room, and when they did, the keys had been hung on part of the machinery.   
"That was too easy." Dan warns as Phil picks up the set of keys. Phil nods in agreement,   
"True, but I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. I want this to be over with."   
Dan can't help but agree as they shuffle out the opposite side of the room. Just outside the doorway are two massive, hulking things that snuffle around blindly. Dan shrieks, and Phil grabs him by the hand and bolts back the way they had come. He throws Dan down by one of the boilers and joins him, hiding in the small area between base and bend. Phil’s hand is over his mouth as both the fleshy bodies’ streak past their hiding place without a second glance. Terrified, they wait a moment, but it's too loud in the boiler room, and too hot to stay much longer.   
"Go. Fast!" Phil commands, and Dan's standing up; "There was a ladder behind them, climb it!"  
Phil presses the key into his hand and pushes Dan away, crouching back down in his hiding space.   
"I'll be right behind you!" he calls, and Dan runs. Runs to the ladder, fumbles with the key to unlock the gate around it, and he climbs to the top, staring down at the base. Where's Phil? He's a little frantic, climbing down a few rungs to look around.   
"Phil?" he whispers harshly. There’s no reply. 

 

Dan's about to climb down the ladder and search for Phil when he comes running toward him, creatures’ right behind.   
"Climb!" Phil screams, and Dan does. He climbs like his life depends on it, all the way to the top, not looking back until Phil shrieks in agony.   
"Phil!?"   
The monsters have the older man by the legs, attempting to pull him away from the ladder while he kicks them as hard as he can. It doesn't seem to affect them, and his grip is loosening.   
"Go Dan!" Phil calls, pulling harder against the monsters; "Get to safety!"  
"I'm not leaving you!" Dan cries, climbing down a few steps; "Not again!"  
There's a pain in Phil's face, but he reaches out a hand for Dan to grasp, and he does, pulling against the monsters with all his might. Together they heave, but the monsters are still too strong, still pulling hard enough to injure. Phil is screaming in pain, and Dan can feel his heart rate in the pale wrist. It's fast, too fast... 

 

The monsters let go, just stand there at the bottom of the ladder as Dan pulls Phil up to the top. Up onto a massive construction setup.   
"Dan!" Phil groans, "Dan, I think they broke my ankle."   
Dan pulls his foot into his lap and hikes up the leg of Phil's skinny jeans. His ankle is swollen and there is a sign of bruising, but it isn't bent in the wrong way or poking out of the skin.   
"I think it's a sprain." Dan says, touching the bruising skin gently. Phil flinches harshly. Beside them, a panel of wall brightens; it's a screen. Dan leans in and reads the message aloud;   
"Do you need medical assistance?"  
Phil looks at Dan, then nods.   
"Yes!" Dan calls, hoping that was the correct response. The monitor flashes a confirmation and dims back into the wall as Dan sighs in relief. Things will be fine…

 

To his surprise, Darren climbs up the ladder with them not five minutes later, taking Phil's injured foot in hand and inspecting it. Sure enough, it's only a sprain, but Darren wraps it tightly and places and ice pack over the bone.   
"Keep that on as long as you can to counteract the swelling." Darren instructs, closing his first aid kit and setting it aside.   
"Do you want to go on with the final level, or would you rather withdraw?"  
Phil looks at Dan, then back at Darren. Dan puts his hand on Phil's shoulder, comforting.   
"You should sit this out, Phil. I can handle the last level alone."   
Phil's face crumples and Darren turns away;   
"Dan..." It's a sad little whimper, almost a desperate plea.  
"It’s okay, its one level. We can't give up Phil, not now! What about our fans? If we can do it, think of how many of them will be inspired to do hard things too!"   
It's true, but Phil can't let it go, can't get the image of him being dragged down a dark hallway where Phil can't follow.   
"I'll continue." he decides. Darren nods and starts down the ladder again.   
"Good luck"

 

Phil struggled over the window sill and into the room, but doesn't accept Dan's assistance. He isn't incapable; he doesn't need protection. He needs to protect Dan. Limping slightly, he heads for the door at the far side of the room and down the hallway, not bothering to explore any rooms on the way, pushing through the blockade and into the breakroom. The stench hits him straight in the nostrils and he staggers back a little, pressing his hand to his nose. It smells of death and rot, as quickly as he can, he launches himself into the vent and struggles to pull himself up. Behind him, Dan dry heaves.   
"Come on, Dan!" Phil calls, "It smells better up here!"   
Dan hurries toward him, vaulting up into the vent much easier than Phil. Maybe he needed to work out more... Together, they shuffle to the end of the vent and drop down to the floor, Phil stumbling and falling down to his knee when his sprained ankle hits the ground. He's up again before Dan can see as he drops ungracefully onto his behind. Phil's already opening the door to the library when Dan catches up, and the smell wafting out is enough to make Phil's nose bleed. Dan coughs, wretches, then pukes up the brownie he had eaten earlier.   
"Ugh!" He cries, "Fuck, Phil!"   
Phil puts Dan's arm around his shoulders and helps the larger boy to his feet and into the dark room, completely ignoring the man as he rants about variants and escaping. There was only one way out, and Phil was going to get them through it. 

 

Phil throws open the door out of the library and pulls Dan along quickly, shoving him through the gap ahead and fitting himself in behind, still limping.   
"Little pig!"  
Shit. Phil reaches for Dan to pull him away, to safety, but the massive pink monstrosity already has him by the neck. Dan's screeching in fear as Phil pushes himself through the gap and throws himself at the variant.   
"Let him go!" Phil rages, throwing his full weight into the man’s chest, dislodging him enough to let go of Dan. He's screaming Phil's name from the floor where he's landed. The pink man seizes Phil by the arm and tosses him like a rag doll, reaching for Dan again. Phil lands in a pile of books, too soft to be made of paper, and attempts to rush back into the fray, to save Dan-!  
"Phil!" 

 

There's a slight accent, a slur to Dan's voice when he's panicked. It's the older man's least favorite sound, especially when it's his name being screamed at the top of Dan's lungs. He watches as Dan's head goes through the glass, whiplash sending it around fast; hard. He's gone, not home, out like light as he's thrown to the floor below.   
"No!"   
Phil runs for the ledge, leaping over without thought and scrambling over the uneven surface toward his lover.   
"Dan!" he cries, lifting the large body into his arms and cradling him. He presses kisses to the split forehead;   
"Come on, Dan!" he whispers against dark curls, "Wake up, bear."   
Tears pour down into soft hair and pinched features, there’s no response. Phil presses his fingers against a tan wrist; there's a pulse. He feels under Dan's nose-- he's breathing steadily. Both relieved and heartbroken, Phil holds Dan's fallen body close, and he waits. Waits for long eyelashes to flutter, for brown eyes to focus; for Dan to whimper and reach for him.   
"Phil?"

 

The older boy covers Dan with his entire body, pushing the younger down into the soft floor and hugging him tight. Dan responds by wrapping his arms around the other, feeling tears start to leak. Dan sobs, and Phil lets him, his tears already dry. They stay wrapped up in each other; touching, sobbing, until Phil pushes himself up and plants a wet kiss to the side of Dan's mouth.   
"Don't you ever get thrown out a window again." Phil laughs weakly. Dan laughs too, wet and relieved.   
"Never." He promises, pulling Phil down into another, proper kiss. Again, they pull each other close, hold on tight.   
"Let's get out of here." Phil murmurs, and Dan nods. They rise, dust themselves off, and head for the room with monitors shining brightly. Trailing blood behind, they make their way past the man in the wheelchair, carefully, and into the room where the men sit, lights out inside. Dan rushes in and snatches the key card, running back to Phil's side in fear. They wander back the way they came, past the static TV and out into the hall. 

 

"Phil" Dan warns, "The wheelchair guy jumps at you on your way back."  
Phil nods and starts toward him, ready to leap out of the way... but the man doesn't so much as finch as Phil walks past him. Worried, Phil walks past again. No reaction. He motions for Dan to come, and the brunette hurries to join him. This time, however, the man propels himself out of the chair and leaps toward Dan. Phil barely has time to pull the taller boy away, being pushing him down to the floor, struggling as the man rants into his face.   
"Get off him!"   
Dan's hands wrap around the sticky man's shoulders and he heaves him off. The larger boy rolls to the side and runs a few feet down the hall, Phil hot on his heels. They race toward the security room, avoiding any suspicious puddles and doors. Dan lifts the keycard to the system and the doors unlock with a click. Inside, Dan heaves the door shut as Phil starts typing away at the keyboard.   
"I saw Jack's footage" Phil says, "The left locker will be opened, we have to share the right one."  
He presses enter on the keyboard, and videos fill the many monitors. Phil shoves Dan into the right locker and climbs in behind him. It's tight and Dan has to hold the door shut for them to be hidden, but it works. When the door flies off its hinges, Dan presses his face into Phil's shoulder, shaking in fear. The left locker is ripped open, the large man searching through it before slinking away. It worked. They wait for a minute, until they're sure the monster isn't coming back.   
"I don't know what to do after this, Phil." Dan admits as they climb out of the locker, "I never made it past this part of the game."

 

Phil leads Dan down the stairs and into the flooded rooms below, picking through the trash ridden water, down the hall and into the large breaker room.   
"We have to press a button in each of those rooms, then flip a switch down there." Phil whispers, pointing.   
"I saw it in Mark's video."  
"I always knew you were a snoop, but this feels like cheating." Dan complains, following the other boy down into the water and around to one of the rooms.   
"I'll push this button, you get the other." Phil says, opening the door and wandering inside. He spots the switch and pushes it, the loud whirring startling him. He runs out and over to where Dan is pushing his own button when the sound of someone breaking down a door makes his heart sink. The only hiding place is an old, rickety bed frame, but it'll have to do. Both of them dive to the floor and wiggle under the metal as the door outside flies from its hinges and sloshing footsteps head for the room they're hiding in. Dan has his hands over his mouth and nose to quiet his breathing, and Phil can't take his eyes off the massive feet patrolling the room. It feels like an eternity has passed before the variant leaves and Dan and Phil crawl out from under the bed and peek out into the larger room. The man had moved on to the other room.  
"This is our chance!" Phil whispers, splashing through the room and into the broken doorway. They have to flip that switch.

 

Phil books it down the hallway and practically throws himself into the room at the end of the hall, stumbling in and crashing loudly into a shelf. He rushes for the switch and throws it with all his might, spinning back toward the exit and facing his pursuant head on. The Variant had chased him in favor of Dan, who had tripped over the desk blocking the hallway; followed him into the room and now raises a bat to swing at his head. Phil ducks, barely missing the swing, and rolls forward, twisting his neck uncomfortably. He trips his way into the hall and sprints, his best impression of cooked pasta, all the way back to where Dan huddles against solid desk.   
"Let’s go!" Phil calls, leaping over the obstruction and rushing for the final button. Dan's right behind him as he sloshes up to the generator and brings it to life. Finally, they're done. Phil snatches Dan's hand and runs, out of breath but high on adrenaline. He pulls the taller boy behind him, running through water, upstairs, to the door that Jack and Mark had come through--   
"Finally!"   
Phil pulls Dan flush against him; kisses him soundly, presses his dry tongue into Dan's pliant mouth. He feels like he could do anything; he...  
"Dan"  
He calls. Brown eyes flutter open, locked on his own.   
"Will you marry me?"


	11. The Apex of Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Sexual Themes and dubious consent; goes no futher than kissing and somewhat heavy petting.

Jack steps out onto dark soil, the smell of fresh rain and damp soil. His sneakers sink slightly, padded by mud. It's too quiet. Too dark. Just an hour before, he had been out in the afternoon gloom. Now, he was under a sky filled with stars; surrounded by forest. Behind him, Mark shuffles out of the elevator, taking a look around with a huff.   
"Slender." he says, starting toward the forest. Jack flinches, trailing after him.   
"I think we should split up." Jack says, eyes on the ground. He sees Mark's footsteps falter, but doesn't stay to hear him talk. His feet carry him around the edge of the fence, jogging away from the other man. He wants to leave, wants this to end, so he pushes himself. He jogs around, looking for obvious pages; managing to find one planted on a car and another between two rocks. Feeling confident, he speeds up, heads center. He finds another page on an abandoned truck. It's only when he finds the bathroom that his nerves return. Carefully, he heads inside, keeping against the walls so Slender has no way of sneaking up on him. Circles around the confusing interior, avoids the chair-- the page is there. Jack runs for it, snatches it, turns and presses his back against the wall. There's a tingling sensation in his fingers, crawling its way up his body, over his throat, suffocating him. In a panic, he runs; runs out of the bathroom, into the forest. He doesn't hear the heavy drums, only the sound of his heart as he crosses ground. He ends up at the tree in the center of the level, where another page flutters. He reaches out and takes it, crumples it in his fist. He has four. Four of eight pages. He hangs his head, punches the rough bark, cries happy tears when the skin breaks.   
"Yeah" he laughs to himself. "I'm fucked up."

 

∞

 

Mark watches Jack run. His chest tightens with guilt, he even takes a few steps toward the smaller man before he loses sight of him. He feels lost for a second, confused, before it turns to irritation. Why had he run? What did Mark do? Angrily, Mark trudges the opposite direction, picking his way through the trees and brushes, over ferns and grass. He finds his first page in a concrete page, it’s eerie and Mark wants to leave it immediately. So he does; runs out of it and in a random direction, running into a rock formation near the limit fence. He pulls the page from the dusty surface and wanders off again. This time, the drums kick in before he reaches his next page. He knows logically that Sean had to have gotten some pages for the music to play so loud, he hesitates to pick up the rouge paper blowing across the ground. He has three pages, now, and there's only one place he's sure to find another; the old tree in the center of the map. Attempting to get his bearings, Mark heads away from where he had come, near the gate. It takes a while, the music thumping louder, harder. It's an intense five minute walk. When he reaches the tree, there is a page, and he takes it. Only four left. Mark starts to round the tree when a loud thump startles him. He rushes around to see if its Sean, just as a broken little sob breaks the litney of drums and tension.   
"Yeah."  
He hears.  
"I'm fucked up."

 

Mark sees Sean crying, his fist bloody, and rushes to him; pulling the smaller frame from the tree.   
"What are you doing!?" Mark rages, taking the bloody hand into his own and wrapping it in the hem of his tee-shirt. Jack moves to pull away, yanking his hand in an attempt to break free.   
"Stop, Jack. You can't run from this! From me!"  
The music has stopped and fat drops of rain have started dripping from the artificial roof, fat and heavy, leaving puddles in the already damp mud around them. Jacks eyes are wide and impossibly blue and Mark can't take his eyes off them. It's cliché and dramatic that the rain gets worse and both of them are soaked to the bone in seconds. Jack's hair sticks to his forehead as he stares. Mark's still angry, he's tense, ridged. He isn't expecting Jack to grab him by the collar and yank him down into an awkward kiss. 

 

Teeth bump hard and Mark accidently bites Jack's lip, but neither pull away. It evolves into a real kiss; soaking wet and warm as they pull each other closer, gripping harder. Mark runs his tongue over Jack's lips like a question, pecking the corner of his thin lips. Jack gasps slightly, his own tongue peeks out to catch the tip of Mark's kiss. He groans, deep and possessive as he presses Jack into the tree behind them, his tongue delving deep into Jack's mouth. They both taste like coffee; a little bitter, a little sweet. Mark's hand shoves itself up Jack's shirt, running fingers against warm skin, over bumpy ribs. Jack's head slams back against the tree; tears pouring down his face. Mark tries to kiss them away; but Jack's dissolving into messy sobs.   
"Why now!?" he chokes, hands coming up to over his eyes, "Why after all this time!? After I gave up!?"  
Mark pulls his hand out of Jack's shirt, and attempts to pull his arms off his face.   
"Jack..." He tries, "Sean!"  
"I have a girlfriend." Sean cries, "I love her! She's the best thing in my life right now!"   
He's dissolving into bigger and bigger sobs, shaking from the cold and the exertion.   
"I wish I never came here."  
Mark feels that like a punch to the gut, flinching hard.   
"I wish I never met you."  
Yeah, it hurts a lot to hear that... Mark's head hangs.   
"I wish I never fell in love with you."

 

The silence stretches out for eternity as Mark rakes his brain for instances where the feeling he's drowning in started. It's guilt; partially because he knew he was leading the younger man on. Letting him think they were friends, close. Before, they could have been, but Mark ruined it with a pointless, self-imposed distance when he realized that maybe he likes the Irishman a little more than he should. And so did the internet. Jack's breathing steadily, slowly above him, staring up at the sky. He has his arms around Mark's neck, like a weird hug. Mark's face is buried in the junction between neck and shoulder; and he enjoys it. Want's to have this be a regular occurrence. He sighs.   
"Jack?"  
He doesn't respond verbally, but his arms shift to let Mark's face lift to talk better.   
"I... I don't love you."   
Jack flinches, but stays silent.   
"I pushed you away to keep myself... my reputation safe; but I regret it. I always have. I miss our skype calls and our visits. Our collabs. I missed you, Jack."  
"But you don't love me." hes crying again and Mark hugs him close.   
"I want a chance to love you, Sean."   
The crying gets louder.   
"Will you give me a chance?"  
Jack's voice is broken when it filters down with the rain;   
"I can't."

 

Once they detangle, the floor beneath them opens and they tumble down into a pile of cloth. Mark's the first one out of the pile, stumbling over to the monitor and sitting heavily on the office chair. Jack stays in the pile, unwilling to push himself up and back into the fray. The familiarity of Five Nights of Freddy's keeps Mark from looking back at Jack. Thinking about how and where he went wrong. For a while, it's just silence and Mark scrambling from left to right. It's only when Mark rushes to keep Foxy from getting in and Chica bursts in from the opposite side that Jack bothers to move. Well, Chica decides to move him. Massive, metal hands grasp him 'round the middle, crushing him, dragging him from the room roughly. He grunts in pain, little gurgled exclamations as he locks eyes with Mark before the hallway swallows him whole. 

 

∞

 

Jack's alright at FNAF, especially now that he's emotionally stunted. His fingers click rapidly in every room, shining the light and winding the music box. It isn't long before he's multitasking in the Freddy head, just going through all the motions, keeping everything at bay. By the time Mark runs into the room, the 6AM chime rings out through the room and Jack vaults the table and rushes down the hallway into the next level. Of course it lets out into a creepy office with one chair and two pads. Jack rushes to sit, pulling the main console down to interact with, and spamming children’s voices across the map while Mark resets every system in tandem. There's one slip up; the ventilation spewing out thick smoke that make both Mark and Jack cough harshly and their vision swims a little. It's not enough to distract Jack from finishing. From getting home to Signe. Once the chim begins, Jack is heading for the exit again, almost running into the child’s bedroom of FNAF 4. Irritated, he throws himself on the bed and screams into the pillow. The twenty minutes it takes to keep all the pop-out animatronics away seems like an eternity. Jack's out the side door before 6AM, dashing for the door at the end of the hall when the song starts to play. He yanks it open and steps inside--  
"Hello EGGSBENEDICT."

 

∞

 

The elevator ride is painful, the tension between both men suffocating. Of course, Jack powers through; crawling out into the vent and slamming every button on the way to Baby's room. Mark follows, subdued. It takes no time for Jack to spam the shock button and trigger Baby's voice; but by that time he's already under the desk. Mark shoves himself under the desk as well, pressing himself against the smaller body, leg wedged between Jacks. Mark holds the desk shut tight, but he never looks at it. His attention is caught on Jack, again. Blue eyes are flitting between the tapping machines and Mark's own eyes; like he's trying not to look. When Baby's voice comes back online; Mark lets the panel go and his hands grasp Jack by the arms, pulling him up over Mark's chest, and kisses him. 

 

Jack plants his hands firmly over Mark's pecs, almost pushing away, but Mark's grabbed them. He doesn't move them, doesn't take Jack's chance at escape, he only cradles strong fingers in his own. Over and over, Mark captures plumping lips, leading Jack down to rest soundly against him. He raises his leg and Jack slides down to rest on it, gasping on contact. Mark hums lowly, hands moving up strong arms and down a bumpy spine. The feeling of Sean shuddering above him is exciting; Sean moaning his name, quiet, an attempt to be restrained? Intoxicating. Mark's fingers dig into Jack's hips, thumb hooking into the hipbone.  
"Oh!" Jack's gasping at the contact, "Mark!"   
Mark groans; kneading muscled hips with abandon; seeking Sean's lips again.   
"When your guide comes back online, he is going to tell you he was unsuccessful."  
Jack pulls away and Mark growls in frustration;  
"That you must reset the system manually; he will then tell you to crawl through Ballora gallery as fast as you can-"  
Jack is scrambling out from under the desk, rushing for the vent, starting toward Ballora's gallery. Mark pulls himself out to follow, crawling through the small space and into a dark room where Jack kneels, waiting. He puts a slender finger to his kiss bitten lips, then starts forward on all fours. Mark certainly doesn't mind the view; following across the dusty floor and watching for the massive ballerina.

 

When they reach the breaker room, Mark pulls open the box and Jack stands watch with one hand on Mark's shoulder. Jack taps twice when Freddy and Bonnie get to close, and in response, Mark shuts the box and distracts them. It's an agonizing ten minutes, resetting the system, but when the lights flood the room, both youtubers are relieved to be finished with this whole ordeal. When they step through the newly lit door, it's the same room they had left, the halfway point.   
"Welcome back, boys." Hanayu calls, pulling Jack away from Mark by the arm. When Mark reaches for him, gripping his opposite arm hard, Nicole bends his fingers back and removes it.   
"If you don't mind, Mr. Fishbach; we have something to discuss with Mr. Mcloughlin. Alone."   
The two women lead him through a Staff Only door and Mark is left alone in the dark room. There are water bottles and sandwiches on an empty desk, but that’s all. Mark seats himself in the chair he had occupied earlier and starts scrolling through the new captured footage. His footage. Watching himself pin the smaller man against a tree and ravish him isn't as exciting as doing it. Mark cuts it from the released edit, cuts the long moment under the desk, but he leaves everything else. There's a sense of crushing guilt when he sees Jack's tearstained face staring at the sky, weeping because of him. It's a sting just under the skin. 

 

∞

Jack is deposited onto a plush chair as both women sit across from him, Nicole's arm linked with Hanayu's. For a minute, the room is silent.   
"I need to know if I should call the authorities." Hanayu says quietly, eyes downcast. Nicole tightens her hold on the smaller woman.   
"We saw-- obviously, what happened at the tree... I should have intervened..."  
Jack stops her, his hand reaching across the gap and resting against her hand on her leg. She looks up and meets his eyes.   
"This is something I have to deal with. It's something I've gotten myself into, my responsibility. Thank you for your concern but; I’ll handle it."  
Hanayu nods, and Nicole grasps his hand gently, imploringly, reassuringly. She doesn't say anything, and Jack is grateful for it. They sit for another minute before Hanayu stands and starts for the door.   
"Let’s get you out of here." She says, "It's been a busy day."   
Jack nods and stands, following her out the door and back into the room with Mark, who’s watching them on the monitor. Watching himself touching Jack. Hanayu and Nicole are frozen in the doorway, but Jack is looking at Mark's face. His reaction. Its guilt and desire, its...   
Jack shakes his head. Now isn't the time for any of this.


	12. Home at Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lestowells make it back to London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEXUAL CONTENT: BE ADVISED

Phil doesn't knock on the door. He's too busy drinking in his fiancé’s yes. His lips are pattering across Dan's face, over his eyes and on the corners of his smiling mouth. He's giggling in the way that Phil lives for, and Phil's the cause. It's such an elating feeling and they're both high on it.   
"Congratulations!" A voice calls, and both of them startle, whirling to see the pink monstrosity with its head off. Underneath is a tall woman, hair tied back. She smiles wide and happy, then tacks on;  
"No worries, I won’t tell!"  
Face red, Phil finally knocks on the door, and Nicole is there in seconds, throwing open the door with a bright look on her face. She doesn't comment, instead stepping out of the way and ushering them inside. She's got a box of chocolates for them, and their station all set up. It only takes a few minutes to finalize the second feed edits, and once they're done, they're being carted downstairs and driven back to their hotel. It's quiet in the heated backseat of the blacked out Range Rover; but Dan won’t let go of Phil's pale hand. Later, when they fall asleep in the same queen bed in their double room, cuddled up, smiling; they'd admit to themselves and each other that this entire trip was a mistake they would never, ever, make again. Even if it was the push they needed to admit they'd never let each other go.

 

When they arrive home in London, they're relieved that none of Phil's houseplants are beyond resuscitation, and the Dan's succulents are still thriving. They haven't been home an hour, Dan dripping water onto his plants while Phil pours a little too much over his potted children, when Phil throws on a coat and rushes out of the house. Dan isn't sure what's happened, but he tries not to let it bother him. He'll clean the recent coat of dust from the house, make himself busy. Phil will come back; Phil always comes back. Dan takes a few minutes to process, happy to be off of the plane, away from the games, and the horror... a minute to process the fact that he was going to marry Phil. It'll no longer be Dan and Phil, best friends on the internet. No, it would be the Lesters, or maybe the Howells? Dan's anxiety is starting to take root, his chest tightening; a hand coming to rest against his heart:   
Who would he be, now? Not Daniel Howell anymore, no. No longer the man with the black aesthetic, a dog lover, creative video-blogger, author; but Phil's husband, because Phil shines so much brighter than he did. Dan's a dark presence, the dark void of space to Phil's bright supernova. It's getting darker outside, but it's also getting darker in Dan's mind. He's falling into the pit again, he realizes it, and he can't stop it. Never can.   
Beside him, his phone chimes, the brightness enough to distract him so he picks it up. It's a message from Phil's mother;   
"I heard the news, congratulations son."

 

Dan reads it again. Reads it over and over. He doesn't realize he's crying until Phil's running up to him, holding him.   
"Dan! Baby, what's wrong?"   
Dan can't answer through the sobs, still staring at the phone, still reading the message. Phil takes the phone away from him and looks at it, then tosses it away and puts his hands on Dan's face, leading him to make eye contact gently.   
"Dan, look at me."  
Dan does, after a moment, eyes red and puffy.  
"What are you thinking?"  
Dan shakes his head;  
"I just... Who will I be if I marry you?" He asks, voice broken. Phil's usually bright face dims with sadness for a second before pinching in irritation. Dan's almost afraid Phil will leave, won't come back, he's grabbing onto his wrist in an unthought-out attempt to keep him close. Here. Phil's face falls again, this time in determination; 

 

"Dan, have I ever done anything to change you?" Asks Phil gently. Dan shakes his head,   
"No, no, of course not." he sputters; nothing Phil does is wrong in his eyes.   
"Do you think that marrying me is a bad decision?" Phil's voice is tight, choked. Without hesitance, Dan has Phil's face in his hands, yanking the older man toward him and crying new tears.  
"How!?" Dan exclaims, "How can anything with you be a bad decision!?"  
Phil's hands tighten around his cheeks.   
"You're the best thing to ever happen to me, Phil."  
"Then why are you confused, Dan. Why do you think that being with me, my husband, will change you in any way?"  
The fog in Dan's brain lifts with the realization that, no, Phil could never change him. Would never even try.  
"I'm sorry."  
Dan's voice is small, tired.  
"I'm sorry. It's always like this, I'm always..." Dan's eyes screw shut in disappointment; "I'm always like this."  
"It doesn't make me love you any less." 

 

∞

 

After a few solemn minutes, they end up ordering takeout and snuggling up in a blanket on the couch. They watch a few shows they missed during their trip, hands covered in sauce, kisses sloppy with grease. It's nice, and then it gets late, and they have to shuffle to their room, socks slipping on the wooden floor while they laugh together, wrapped up in the same blanket. When they fall into bed, the room still messy, Phil's already got Dan by the waist, fingers under the black tee-shirt. Dan's laughs fizzle into a soft sigh as he shifts under him;  
"Phil?"  
It's a breathy question, charged with the circles Phil's rubbing into his skin. Phil only dips down to capture his mouth, kissing him with gentle love and care. It sends sparks careening down his skin, electricity, like a livewire. Phil's mouth leaves wet kisses down his neck, across his collarbone and ribcage. Warm fingers across his stomach, down his sides. Dan's writhing in pleasure, Phil's mouth over his nipple, his fingers rolling over the other. His shirt's been rolled up to his armpits, Phil's attention heading lower and lower until his jeans are unzipped and Phil's hands are pushing hard into his hip bones. Dan can't help but groan, hips raising into the touch, itching for it.   
"Phil!"  
The man shudders, growling low in his chest as his hands slip under Dan's thighs and lift them so he can rest in between. Phil's head drops next to Dan's ear and he hums, voice low with arousal; 

 

Dan's spine tingles with the sensation of Phil's voice in his ear, hips bucking into the heavy weight of Phil's hips. Phil laughs a little, then sits up and yanks Dan's pants down, struggling to pull the tight fabric from his legs. Once free, Phil reaches for his boxers, half way up his thighs from being stuck to his jeans, and he pulls them off as well. The blanket has fallen from his shoulders, but it's still soft against Dan's back as it lays out over their bed.   
"I can't believe that I'll have this, you, in my bed for the rest of my life." Phil says in wonder, eyes roving over Dan's naked body, half lidded eyes. He pulls Dan's legs up, slotting his hands into Dan's bent knees and leaning forward to fold the taller boy over. Dan grunts in surprise as Phil settles against him; pushed hard against his backside. Still clothed, Phil feels rough against his sensitive skin.   
"Clothes!" he gasps, "Phil, please"

 

Phil doesn't need to be told twice, he's already shimmying out of his shirt, throwing it to the floor. He has to pull away from Dan to wiggle out of his pants, but as soon as they're off, Phil's entire body covers Dan's and he kisses him. His hands are back under Dan's legs, pulling them up by the knee.   
"Can I touch you?" Phil whispers against Dan's lips, fingers crawling down over the backs of his thighs. Dan nods emphatically, hands coming around Phil's back as he pulls him down into another kiss. Pale hands caress tan legs, coming around to prod at Dan's behind. The taller boy moans into Phil's kisses, legs falling apart, giving Phil easier access. Distracted, Phil rustles around in the drawer beside the bed, fumbling for the small tube of lubricant they kept there. It's cold and thin when he pours it on his fingers, rubbing it all around the tight pucker, warming it, riling his partner. Dan moans under him, hands reaching up to touch Phil's thin chest, dark hands stark on pale skin as they roam. 

 

Phil presses a finger into the ring of muscle; gentle, slow. Dan's squirming under him, large hands griping his body in pleasure.   
"Phil!" he pleads.   
He pours more gel on his fingers, then pushes another in beside the first, rocking them in and out easily, drinking in the taller boy writhing under him.   
Because of him.   
He upturns the bottle and soaks Dan's skin with it; another finger pushing in, twisting. He watches Dan's face pinch, mouth open and close; Phil presses a final finger inside, still gentle, still loving. Below him, Dan moans, his feet planting down into the mattress as he bends into Phil's touch.   
"Phil" Dan breathes, "Phil, come on, please"

 

He doesn't need to be asked twice; leaning over the edge of the bed to grab one of the dirty shirts and wiping the sticky liquid from his hands before shifting Dan to his side and pressing himself flush behind him. He presses kisses to Dan's neck as he presses himself into the younger man, still gentle, still caring. Dan's fingers grip the sheets tightly as he pushes himself backward, staccato moans pressing out of his chest. Phil's breath is stolen by the sensation, by the closeness. He can't help but moan Dan's name with abandon, letting the younger man choose the pace as he presses back into Phil's body. It feels like only seconds before Dan's pulling away, rolling over and yanking Phil over him. Scrambling, Phil presses himself in again, pushing Dan's legs up when they lock behind him; hands bracing beside curly brown hair as he leans down to kiss him.   
"I love you." Dan breathes between kisses, already plump lips swelling with Phil's possessive biting. Phil moans, preening as he kisses Dan again, sucking hickies into his neck and shoulders.   
"Yeah?" Phil laughs breathily, "Well, I'm going to marry you."  
Dan pupils were already blown wide, but those words swallow the last woody brown left; his head hits the comforter and his body spasms with pleasure. 

 

Phil drinks in the sight of his fiancé, drunk on the feeling, before taking Dan into his arms and pulling him until he sits in Phil's lap, driving him deeper inside the other. Dan's breathing is shallow, his head hanging backwards as he moans.   
"Breathe Dan." Phil instructs, hands running up Dan's sides; "You're Hypoxic, focus."  
Dan's breaths get deeper, and after a moment, he leans forward onto Phil and rocks himself down slowly. Phil's breathing catches at the pleasure as Dan fucks himself drunkenly.   
"Dan." he chokes, gripping the larger male tightly, trying to slow him down, ground him. It only spurs him on as he rocks harder, pushes further, deeper. Phil's losing his control, hips stuttering up to meet Dan's movements.   
"Dan!"  
It's instantaneous, a deep gasping breath that fills Dan's entire chest as he shudders atop him, he can feel the muscles tighten around him as a warm wetness drips into his lower stomach. His control breaks and Phil thrusts up hard, letting Dan's weight carry him down into the mattress where he can brace himself to fuck up into Dan's body, lavishing in the way he moans and pushes down, sensitive from orgasm. Dan's mouth latches onto the junction between Phil's neck and shoulder and he bites down hard, then sucks a dark hicky into Phil's pale skin. It pushes the older man over the edge and he wraps both arms around Dan and presses in hard, deep, releasing himself with a cry of Dan's name. 

 

Phil helps Dan regain the proper oxygen, then takes his hand and leads him into their bathroom, turning on the bath and letting the hot water run. Dan leans against the bathtub tiredly, grateful when Phil slides up next to him and presses his head into his shoulder. It takes a good five minutes before the bath is full, and they spend it just touching, skin to skin. It's relaxing, fulfilling; Phil almost ignores the bath until Dan reaches over and turns off the water. It's another second of tired silence before Dan swings a leg over the side of the tub and sinks down into the water, looking up at Phil expectantly.   
"In a second, I forgot something." Phil says softly, trotting back into the room and pulling his purchase out of his jeans pocket and carrying it back into the bathroom.   
"Dan."  
Brown eyes lock onto his as he stumbles down to one knee and pulls the small box out from behind his back, popping it open to reveal a black, titanium ring with a single diamond set into the band.   
"I know you already said yes but... I wanted to do it properly."  
Dan's halfway out of the bath in surprise;  
"Will you marry me, Daniel James Howell?"


	13. This is it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEXUAL CONTENT 2.0: BE ADVISED

The ride back to the hotel was lonely, since Hanayu insisted he be driven separately. Currently, Mark was in the passenger seat of an orange and black Porsche 911, feeling like a child while Hanayu drives with a pinched expression. It isn't until they've pulled up to the hotel that she sighs, a harsh and disappointed sound.   
"You did well today, raising money for your charity. However; I feel the need to tell you that you've cause the need for a new stiplulant in the contracts. I hadn't thought about sexual assault during any of the levels."  
Mark is stunned at the accusation before he recalls that, yes, he had been on video.   
"I have no right to call the authorities for what happened at the Emporium, it's been requested that I let the incident slide, but I'll make this perfectly clear: If we do business together again, under any circumstances, I will not tolerate that behavior again."  
Her incessant glaring has Mark scrambling out of the car, almost forgetting his camera bag in the process. Once his feet hit pavement, the Porsche revs loudly and speeds out of the parking lot. Mark's glad for the riddance. Exhausted, he turns back toward the boutique hotel and shuffles into the lobby, nodding at the few fans who've stayed here for the event, taking a few pictures before scurrying upstairs. He's about to call Jack's cell number as the elevator door slides open with a chime, but the smaller man is sat in front of his door, head on his knees.   
"Sean?"  
Blue eyes snap up, and then Jack is standing.   
"We need to talk." he says, and Mark nods, fishing his room key out of his bag and fumbling it into the doorknob. 

 

They stumble into the room and Mark throws his bag onto a decorative chair before flinging himself onto the bed and patting the spot next to him. Jack patters over to sit on the chair's armrest instead. Eyes downcast. There's silence as both men try to address what had happened earlier. Jack is the first to speak;  
"I haven't told Signe." he admits, trying to sound calm, "I... She told me I had to make a decision, and it's true. I do. It's you or her, and right now? I'm too fucked in the head to think straight."  
Mark resists the urge to make a gay joke, instead nodding solemnly as Jack continues;  
"I've been avoiding this issue for years; it's a pain in my ass, loving you. At first I wanted to be your friend, I was a fan, it was so simple. When you started talking to me, including me, I realized that you were such a dynamic person. You're magnetic."  
Mark feels flattered.  
"I wanted to be someone that mattered to you; an equal, a contender! It wasn't until you started pushing me away that I realized the emotion I pinned to you was romantic."  
Mark notices that Jack has tears in his eyes and moves to wipe them away gently. At first, Jack flinches, but he leans into the touch when Mark's warm fingers meet a cold cheek.   
"I know I fucked up, Sean." Mark admits, and the words are tight; guilty, "Today, back then, it's been a series of Mark-brand fuckups."  
Jack can't help but snort.  
"But today, being with you? Touching you? Kissing you?" the last part makes both of their faces hot, "It's been the best thing in a long time. I've lost my way, I lost my inspiration, my drive. I was a mess and nothing was pulling me out of it; but you? This? This is the most functional I've been in months."  
"Give me a shot, Jack."  
"Let me learn to love you."

 

 

Jack ends up staying in Mark's room a little longer, talking about the day’s events. They talked about how easily they made it through the FANF franchise, laughing heartily when Mark proclaimed that he was still "THE KING! OF FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDIES!” It wasn't until Jack shifted in his seat, trying to avoid talking about any other levels, that his shirt rides up his waist and he hears Mark suck in a breath.   
"Sean."  
Blue eyes flick over to Mark immediately, worried.   
"What's wrong?" Jack asks.   
Mark doesn't say anything; instead he's gripping Jack's arm hard, yanking him out of the chair and walking him back against the wall. Jack's struggling hard, scared tremor in his voice as Mark pins his hands above his head and pulls his shirt up harshly.   
"Mark! What--"  
"Look."  
Jack's eyes snap down to his chest and he's surprised to see massive bruises on his abdomen, evidence of Chica's massive hands on his body. He's caught up in them as Mark lets him go, his fingers running gently over the blue and purple skin.   
"I'm sorry." he whispers, eyes trained on Jack's skin, "I should have been faster, I should--"   
Jack shakes his head, pushing Mark away and pulling down his shirt.   
"No, it isn't your fault. I should have been helping you, I let my emotions fuck us both over."  
Mark's shaking his head now, there’s a tension rising in the room, between them, around them. It's maddening, but Mark's attention is caught on how red Jack's face is getting. On how he hasn't moved from where Mark pinned him; on how his hands are caught on each other, how he pulls the hem of his shirt. How he won't look at Mark. 

 

 

Mark's got him by the chin, pressed against the wall again, eyes locked on vibrant blue. Jack doesn't fight it, only reaches to grip the hand on his chin in question. They stare, silently; taking each other in. Still. Jack smells like wet clothes and chlorine and dust, and Mark can smell old coffee and sweat on himself. They need a shower, but he's too caught up in blue eyes and Jack's teeth biting into his plump lips. Mark wants to bite his lips, finds himself leaning in, still staring into blue eyes.   
"Can I?" he breathes, watching Jack's eyes flit between his mouth and his eyes. He can feel Jack's breath on his face, as he nods, tiny, unsure. Mark leans forward and rests his mouth against Jack's—Sean's, slowly. Below him, Sean's lips open and his eyes flutter closed. It takes all his control not to pick the smaller man up and push him against the wall; ravish him. He knows he walks a thin line.   
"Mark?"   
Brown eyes focus on Sean's blue;   
"Let's..."  
Sean's eyes are still stuck on his lips, so Mark leans down again and captures them. Brings a hand to cup Sean's face as he licks open his mouth and deepens the kiss, licks across his lips, bites down on them. He releases Sean gently, pressing one last peck to the corner of his mouth with a smile. It takes a second for Sean to focus, to bring himself back to the present at look Mark in the eye;   
"What were you saying?" Mark asks, still standing too close. Sean tears his eyes away;  
"Let's shower. You smell."   
Mark chuckles at that, but steps away and lets Sean scurry out the door to his room. 

 

 

He's surprised when Sean returns, his bags and a few stray clothes in his arms. He looks guilty as he pushes past a shirtless Mark and sets his belongings down in the seat. He hesitates there as Mark shuts the door and locks it.   
"I..." His voice is a little strained; "I thought..."  
Mark presses himself against the smaller man's back; wraps his arms around the thin waist, rests his head on his shoulder.   
"Sure. We can have a sleepover." Mark chuckles, pressing a kiss against a pale shoulder before standing and walking back into the bathroom to start the shower. He doesn't bother closing the door, just strips off his clothing and steps into the shower once the water is warm enough. He isn't expecting Sean to leap in behind him and shut the glass door. It's a little awkward, but Mark can't complain when he catches sight of the smaller man. He's not tiny; his entire body is muscled, lean, strong. Mark's almost embarrassed that he isn't as muscle headed as he had been before. He doesn't realize he's staring until Sean smacks him across the head playfully.   
"Sorry." Mark says, but he's still staring. Sean's face is red.   
"Don't make me regret this, Fishbach." he grumbles, but it's clear that he's flattered. Mark smiles and steps out of the spray. 

 

They shuffle around the shower for a few minutes, Mark lathering his hair with cheap hotel brand shampoo while Sean stood still under the spray. He's beautiful; lean and strong and Mark can't help but admire him; reach for him. He takes Sean by the hand and pulls him backwards into his chest, against his body. Smaller hands cover his as his chin tilts up, blue eyes meeting brown. Mark leans down and plants his lips against a wet shoulder, sliding up Sean’s neck; hands coming around to grasp gently at his chin, maneuvering him into an open mouthed kiss. It's a sloppy Spiderman kiss, but it's satisfying. He whines into the space between their lips when Mark pulls away, and he lets Sean turn around and press his wet body against Mark's own. Mark can't help but chuckle as he grabs Sean round the arms and pulls him up into another set of wet kisses; sliding his lips against Sean's. 

 

Their slick skin rubs together as they pull each other closer, Mark's larger body enveloping Sean's as he moves to hug him closer, back him up against the shower wall where the spray is weak. Without thinking, Mark reaches down and takes strong thighs in hand, hikes the smaller man into his arms, resting him against the wall and holding him there with his hips. Sean's ankles cross behind him and he takes the encouragement, moving lower to mouth at a protruding collarbone, to bite harsh kisses into a pale neck. Above him, Sean hugs his head to his chest, resting fully against the wall as he lets the pleasure wash over him. It's sexy, the way Sean's entire body writhes with the sensations, trembles and shakes and breathes. Mark's mouthing at a perky nipple when Sean chokes himself with a moan, his legs moving erratically as he slides down the wall a little.   
"Sean?" Mark asks, checking to make sure the younger man was alright. Sean nods quickly, but his body jolts with the movement and Mark can feel his erection against his thigh. It's a breathtaking kind of rush, to feel the hot, firm flesh against him. 

 

Mark eases Sean to stand on the floor of the shower, then leads him out to sit on the edge of the bath across the large bathroom. Blue eyes are half-lidded and hazy with lust, but he balances on the tub, keen on reconnecting their bodies. Mark obliges, kneeling down to place himself between Sean's toned legs, pushing his hands up over firm abs and sensitive sides. He can feel Sean, half-hard against his chest, and he takes the smaller man's erection in hand, smoothing his rough hands over it gently. It's warm and smooth, and to Mark's surprise, Sean's shaved clean; skin pale and soft around the crease of thigh and up to a small bellybutton. It's sexy; in a weird way. Mark likes it, touches it, leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses from his navel to his uncircumcised dick. Taking the organ into his mouth isn't unpleasant, only new, and Mark finds the reaction incentive enough to continue. Sean's moaning low in his throat, a feral sound based in his chest, fingers gripping Mark's hair tightly as he keeps himself under control. Mark's got him by the hips, forcing him to lean back over the tub and relinquish control of his legs as he takes more and more of Sean into his mouth, rolling him on his tongue, sucking hard. Sean's a bit of a screamer, whining through his fingers as he attempts not to let the entire hotel hear him calling Mark's name with abandon.   
"Mark." he breathes, eyes wide and locked on Mark's when he looks up, "Mark, please. I can't..."  
Mark pulls away from the smaller man with a wet pop, if only to watch Sean squirm, and closes his fingers around the base of him. He can feel the throbbing under his fingers as Sean's eyes roll back in a dry climax.   
"Not yet." he breathes, scrambling back to the shower and emerging with the conditioner bottle. Sean's face pinches a little when he sees it and his legs close on instinct.   
"It's okay," Mark murmurs, pressing a kiss to Sean's shoulder, "If it hurts, if you don't like it; I'll stop."

 

  
Sean allows Mark to pull his knees apart and pull him down into his lap for another set of sloppy kisses, pressing closer as he straddles the larger man. He almost doesn't notice a single finger makes its way down his spine, between his buttocks. He gasps as Mark's warm finger prods gently against his most sensitive parts, his own fingers pressing hard into Mark's shoulders as he experiences the sensation. When Mark pulls his fingers back, Sean's allowed to take a breath, recover; but then the finger is back, slick with sweet smelling liquid this time. Mark presses his finger into Sean's body slowly and Sean's back arches hard with the feeling. It's intrusive and strange, it feels like he's taking a shit, and he reaches behind himself in a desperate attempt to stop when Mark hooks a finger and sends an electric shock through his entire body. Sean screams with the pleasure of it, a broken, cut-off sound that has Mark pushing a second finger in along with the first, still rubbing.   
"Looks like I found your prostate." Mark says, proud of himself, as if it mattered to Sean, whose eyes had rolled back into his head at the stretch of two fingers. He's panting, his chest feels too small, his nerves on fire; his entire body quivers when Mark ads a little more conditioner and presses a third finger into his body. His muscles clench down hard and Mark's gripping the base of his erection again as he chokes himself on another dry orgasm, throat dry and voice slowly cracking, dying. 

 

Mark lays him out on the floor and Sean doesn't even have the energy to care, feeling embarrassed and tired as Mark plants himself between his legs, fingers sliding back into him. He cries out, his muscles oversensitive, his prostate overstimulated, and Mark's pulling his fingers out again, lining himself up; pressing in. Mark's erection is much larger than three of his fingers, and Sean's crying actual tears as the man presses further and further into him. It's a tolerating level of painful, but there’s an underlying feeling of intrusion, like a personal boundary has been passed that Sean can't let go of. Mark doesn't move once his hips reach Sean's, he stays still and brushes the hair out of Sean's face, wipes the tears from his cheeks. He's gasping and crying, reaching out for Mark from the floor where he's stuck--  
"I love you." Sean whispers, still crying, "I love you. I love you. I love you."  
He repeats it like a mantra as Mark tries to kiss away his fears, tries to calm him;   
"Sean;" he murmurs, leaning forward to look into clouded blue eyes and rocking himself into Sean's body, against that bundle of nerves. Sean screams, his legs snapping up to wrap around Mark's waist tightly.   
"Oh god, Mark!" he cries, arching against the floor is pleasure; "Please! Mark!"  
Mark rolls his hips again, gauging Sean's reaction. The smaller man shudders, his eyes roll back and he breathes out a moan that catches Mark off guard.   
"Please what?" Mark asks, drunk off the sight of Sean over stimulated.   
"Fuck me!" he cries, ankles tightening to force Mark in deeper; "Please!"  
Mark snaps his hips down hard, fucking Sean down into the cold floor harder than he had meant to, but Sean screams in pleasure and pushes himself back towards him, so Mark continues. He fucks him hard enough to jostle him with each thrust, enough that his eyes haven't rolled back around, enough that his dick is standing at full attention without needing to be touched. 

 

It doesn't take long for Mark to reach his breaking point, watching Sean scream and writhe in pleasure. Instinctively, he reaches around Sean’s hips, pulling himself out so he can flip the other man onto his stomach. Mark lifts Sean’s hips up off the floor, holding him up so he can press himself inside the smaller body again. He lays over the pale back, face buried in Sean’s sweat-soaked neck, thrusting gently into Sean’s willing body. Below him, moans are dripping from swollen lips, open and plump from kisses and panting. It’s all so raw and sexual and intense, and Mark can’t help but feel it. He’s close, so he wraps his hand around the younger man and moves in time with his thrusts, feeling the vein's throb under the pads of his fingers. Sean's panting his name, moaning it every time Mark thrusts inside; drooling onto the pristine white floors and choking on his own fluids. As Mark presses in deep, abusing his prostate, Sean comes; hard. His body bows, back arching, shoulders and face pressed hard into the floor as goose bumps erupt over his entire body. The sight of it pulls Mark over the edge as well, pulling himself out of Sean’s body and dripping down into his own fist. 

 

It takes a minute for Mark to recover, but then he's washing his hand and running a bath, stepping back into the shower to rinse and lather himself in soap while Sean stares blankly at the ceiling.   
"I might have gone too far." Mark admits, stepping out of the shower to lift Sean from the floor and carry him to the bath, allowing the younger man to slip into the warm water himself.   
"I think I'm bleeding." Sean croaks, legs spreading out in the large tub. Mark frowns; feeling guilty for how rough he had been on the smaller man.   
"I'm sorry."  
Sean doesn't answer, too busy rubbing his fingers over his abused rectum distractedly. Mark lets him relax, climbing in behind him and running wet fingers through tangled hair. It's a peaceful thirty minutes of soaking before Mark's leg falls asleep beside Sean and he drains the water. Once they had cleaned up and dried off, Sean let Mark lead him to the only bed and tuck him in. It was dark and he was tired, Sean was comfortable with sleeping. Forever. Mark's firm body presses against his side and it's comfortable; warm. Safe. Sean ends up falling asleep while Mark watches some inane show on the TV, but it’s peaceful, calm. It's everything he knew he wanted.


End file.
